The Siege of Powtanville
by jarec
Summary: An elite Sabbat pack takes on the Camarilla, Garou, and mortals, all the while searching Powtanville for Caine Himself
1. Default Chapter

THE SIEGE OF POWTANVILLE

Author's Note: I own nothing and Noone, save myself. Powtanville, Arizona does not exist to the best of my knowledge. But I don't know much about US cities, so it was easier to make one up than to research one.

Also, I have no intention of transcribing accents. So I'll just say this: Bubba speaks with a Southern Drawl.

**The Magnificent Seven rode out of Dallas, satisfied that their job was done. **

Janus liked that. It sounded very much like a line in a good western, something by Lois L'Amour. Timeless. It conjured images of rugged heroes, emerging triumphant from a pitched battle, riding into the sunset on noble steeds. Of good triumphing over evil, which was rare in this sad sorry world. Janus liked those storires, because they were so different from reality.

The reality was that the Magnificent Seven were a pack of vampires in the service of the Sabbat. They rode out of Dallas, not into the sunset (which would, of course, have been the Final Death of them) but into the night. They rode noble steeds, but their names weren't Silver, Bullet, Spirit, or anything like that. Their names were Harley, Kawasaki, Honda, and BMW. The pitched battle between Good and Evil had indeed occurred, but they had guaranteed the win for Evil, or at least denied it to Good. They had just finished slaughtering a group of Inquisitors belonging to the ever-righteous Order of Saint Gregory. An object lesson, the Sabbat bishop of Dallas had called it, on the wisdom of minding your own business. The Inquisitors, unprepared for the Seven's brutal attacks, were easily killed, True Faith or no.

As for the part about rugged heroes…well, maybe. They were 'rugged' no question about that. In fact, 'ragged' might better apply to some of them. Heroes? Janus thought so. Unlike most members of theirSect, the Seven did not view the Kine as just a bunch of food animals. Consequently, when possible, they preferred to minimize bystander casualties. They would kill the Kine when it was necessary, bt otherwise, would leave them alone. The pack-leader was under no illusions that that made them angels.

But the overall purpose of the Sabbat was to exterminate the Antedeluvians and their puppets in the Camarilla before the Elders arose to devour the world, Kindred and Kine alike. In that light, the Seven were mighty heroes indeed, having killed one Elder on their own. Not an Antedeluvian, to be sure, but a 5th generation Cainite was hardly easy prey. Though trapped in the body of a decrepit old man, the Ancient had displayed powers beyond any of the Seven's experiences. The Tzimisce shivered briefly, in remembrane of what that monster had been capable of.

The Seven was an old pack, older than any of its members. It predated the Western movie and Akira Kurosawa's masterpiece, both of the same name. Janus believed it had been formed in the 1840's, with his sire as one of the original members. As old members were killed in battle, new ones were recruited, but they were never more than 7. No member of the Seven ever died except in battle. No assasinations, no executions, no accidents, and no duels. In the ever ruthless world of Sabbat politics, that was quite an achievement.

This last job had been a 'downer', what the Sabbat leaders in North America used to relax elite packs. Such packs were ALWAYS busy, so easy jobs were as close as the Seven ever came to a genuine vacation. This was the third such job in a row, and had taken less than a week. Janus had therefore told his superiors, via messengers, that the Seven were ready for a REAL challenge.

Janus looked at his companions, gauging the status of each. As he looked, he mentally reviewed their strenghs, weaknesses, abilities and deficiencies.

At his right rode his second-in-command Jeff Blune. Jeff was Ventrue antitribu, and shared his parent Clan's fastidious nature. Jeff fed only on mortals who had black hair, and never went anywhere in clothes that cost less than 200. On the other hand, he was a killing machine with an uzi in either hand, and was above average in the use of a machete. He was also much stronger than he'd been four months ago, following the battle with the Ancient. Jeff had been the one to strike the decisive blow, and, following the pack's traditions, had diablerized the old bastard. His Generation had shot from 13 to 8 or more, making him potentially the most powerfull one here. Luckily, infighting within the pack was unheard of. He had mastered the Disciplines of Auspex, Presence, and, in a move unusual for one of his Clan, had a fair knowledge of Celerity. Though generally reliable, his recent Generation jump had made Jeff a bit cocky, prone to rashness. Janus made a mental note to have a talk with Jeff about that before the next job.

To his left rode Tariq Al'Akim and Jessy Quinn. Tariq was an Assamite, a specialist in assasinations. His prefered weapon was the twin short swords he had carried for seventy years. He was also adept with his bare hands, a master of Karate, Cappoiera, Shaolin Kung-fu, and Savate kickboxing. His use of firearms was rare, and usually confined to a pistol. He was 9th generation, same as Janus, but had sworn not to raise his generation by consuming his packmates. This was a common concern for any group containing an Assamite. His Disciplines were Quietus, Celerity, and Obfuscate. He was the pack's assassin, and he loved his job. Almost as much as he loved Jessy.

For all of him, Janus couldn't see the appeal. Jessy was smart, funny, charming, and had a strangely disarming friendliness. She was also Nosferatu, of the 10th Generation, which meant she looked like a two month old corpse left in the sun, and smelled little better. She had little in the way of combat skills, being a merely average shot with her combat shotgun, and fairly useless close up. But then, as a spy, she rarely needed to fight. Her disciplines wer Fortitude (she had demonstrated the ability to ignore hits from a .45 at close range), Obfuscation, and Animalism (she talked to rats). In addition, she was an expert researcher, and an experienced Hacker. Once in a city, their was very little Jessy couldn't find out given time. Her Blood Bond to Tariq meant that they worked well together, coordinating assasinations of targets everyone else believed untouchable. At the moment, she was leaning forward and whispering something in his ear. All Janus could catch was "…gonna tie you to the bedposts, tear off your clothes and…", before he quickly stopped listening. He did NOT need that image in his head!

Behind him, on an elegant black Kawasaki, was Veronique DuMars, a LaSombra of the 11th Generation. She was black, of New Orleans stock, and beautiful. Once, there had been a great deal of tension between them, over his leading the Magnificent Seven. She had pointed out that LaSomhra were usually the leaders of Sabbat packs, and that all of its previous leaders had been LaSombra. He had nodded politely, than asked her to step outside. When she stopped bleeding, and had healed her arm, she submitted. The forms had been followed, his dominance established. Still, sometimes he felt uneasy around her, as though he were being judged.

Other than that, no complaints. Like most LaSombra, she had studied the Clan's signature Discipline of Obtenebration, as well as Presence and Potence. She was mainly a social liaison for the pack, but was handy with a pistol, and good with knives. Her knowledge of Languages (English French, Russian, German, and Spanish) and social protocal had proved great assets.

Finally, there was Bubba Rockwell and Simon. They rode together, not because they liked one another (though they usually did), but because Bubba was the only one capable of restraining the deranged Simon.

Bubba, as his name suggested, was a Southerner, a Panders of the 13th Generation, and the youngest in the pack. He seemed determined to make up for this by being the deadliest thing on two legs. He habitually carried an AK-47, a .357 Magnum, a hand-axe, and a silver knife which he'd once used to kill a Lupine. Its white fur was now padding his motorcycle's seat. He was a combat machine, and a demolitions expert, who had somehow overcome the traditional Kindred fear of fire enough to use firebombs to great effect. His disciplines were Celerity, Potence, and Fortitude. He was a six foot four, two hundred pound mass of muscle.

Bubba's weakness was that he was a long way from a genious. His IQ tested out at 90, just under average. Consequently, instructions had to be explained to him carefully, sometimes twice, before he could safely be trusted to accomplish a task. Right now, his task was 'keep Simon out of trouble', which he had decided to do by chaining the other vampire his sidecar.

Simon was the pack priest. He was responsible for all the Sabbat rituals, as well as the Vaulderie. He was a small, slight figure. About five foot five, and 100 poundsm with long white hair that could never stay under control for more than a minute.He was average in combat, using a sawed off shotgun and a set of throwing knives. His disciplines were Auspex, Dementation and Dominate. His weakness was his clan. Simon was Malkavian, and his dementia was extreme, sporadic paranoia. Basically, he could freak out at any time over anything, convinced that someone or something represented a grave threat to him. So for this journey, he had to be restrained.

Right now Simon was in chains, as he usually was, when travelling. He was also pissed at Bubba, also not unusual.

"Let me go, RIGHT NOW, you pig-fucking hayseed! I'm not going anywhere and you damn well know it! LET ME OUT!"

"Now, Simon, you know I can't do that. Janus told me to keep you outta trouble so that's what I figure I'll do"

Janus smiled slightly. Simon should know by now that it was futile to try to argue with Bubba's orders. Too dim to really think for himself, Bubba took comfort in obeying orders to the letter. That did not stop the Malavian, who apparently planned to rant, rave, and curse at Bubba all the way to their destination. _Let him, it'll be good for him to blow off some steam_.

And then there was him. Janus Zapolski. Tzimisce of the 9th Generation, sired 85 years before by a very potent Cainite who'd thought the young Commosol AN: a Communist Youth Group in the USSR 'interesting'. A master of Viscitude, Celerity and Animalism. He carried his usual broadsword, with which he was very proficient. He also had a Desert Eagle, with which he had once boasted, he could perform surgery at ten paces. His clothes were the same as the rest of the Seven: Leather Duster (black in his case), shirt, leather pants (later to change for jeans when not on his Harley), steel-toed boots. Unlike most Tzimisce, Janus still looked human; a tall, blonde human with short hair spiked straight up. He knew his strengths, and acknowledged no serious weaknesses. His side bags were full of dirt from his native city of Rostov, and he was ready to go.

Following behind them in a bigrig were the Seven's ghouls. Most were normal humans, addicted to Kindred vitae, mainly Janus' (his blood being unusually addictive). TheSeven had chosen only those humans who were extremely well trained in combat, and showed just the right amount of initiative. Two however were . Warghouls. Twisted giants, composed of multiple humans, with weapons built into their arms. They were Janus' creations, and they had proved very usefull in the past. At need, he could always make more.

The Big Rig not only stored the Warghouls, but served as a makeshift Haven while the pack traveled. Its trailer was thirty feet long and six feet wide, allowing the Seven and their bikes to rest their during the day.

This would be a long trip, through Lupine country (which was basically everything outside the cities), and the Seven had not survived more than a hundred and thirty years through stupidity. They had to keep moving, though. They were on deadline. The Magnificent Seven had been ordered to a small town in Arizona, to receive further orders. This was the first time in decades that orders had been deemed too sensitive to be sent directly via messenger, or left in some sort of code in a known spot.

_Whatever's coming, its gonna be big._

PART 2

They were greeted, three nights later, by no less august a person than the Cardinal of the South-Western United States himself, Zumarraga. Zumarraga was Tzimisce, and hence was fairly distinctive. For one thing, he was six foot nine, towering over even Bubba. He had a malformed head, with ridges on the forehead. His skin was pink, like gum, and his hands were talons. When he opened his mouth to greet them, Janus noticed he had a long black tongue. Janus was impressed. While he chose to look human for stealth purposes (save for his Zola form), he could appreciate the artistry inherent in the Cardinal's appearance. As they pulled up, he looked for a long time at the Garou pelt on Bubba's bike.

The Cardinal was accompanied by two Templars of indeterminate Clan. They were however, extremely burly and armed to the teeth.

"Ahh, the Magnificent Seven! I knew your predecessors well, and may I say you do them credit. Although you do seem to take inordinate precautions regarding the safety of mortals."

Jeff was the one to answer "We prefer to focus on exterminating the Elders for the time being. Once our collective asses are out of fire, then we can worry about how best to treat the humans" Jeff cursed himself for not explicitly telling Jeff to be cautious in adressing the Cardinal. Fortunately, the older Tzimisce just laughed, with no trace of artifice.

"True, true, young Ventrue. And you are so VERY good at that aren't you? Good. We have a rather…delicate mission for you" he was now looking directly at Janus "Please, come see me at my manse in Phoenix. All will be made clear tommorow night" and with that he and his Templars walked away. A limosine pulled up to get them

"What the FUCK! We haul ass all the way from Texas to this little shithole just so he can tell us to come see him somewhere else? Who does he think he is?" Jessy exclaimed. She and Bubba were young, and didn't truly understand the dangers of speaking ones mind about some things. Plus, she had a quick temper.

"He THINKS he is the most powerful Cardinal in the Southern United States" Tariq answered coldly. In a different tone of voice (almost a plea) he continues "Please, my love, do nothing to antagonize him. I could not live if you were to…to…". The assassin trailed off, unable even to voice the word 'die'.

Jessy softened immediately "Ok, Tarry, I'll be a good girl for now. But you have to promise you'll 'tarry' with me later, and help me be a bad girl". This was said with a smile that showed yellow teeth and immense fangs, and a red tongue licking rubbery lips. Tariq, merciless killer and vampire, immediately went from looking despondent and worried to uncomfortable and yet very happy. _If he were human_ Janus thought _I honestly think he'd be blushing_

A hard nights traveling took them to the borders of Phoenix. They found a delapidated bar, that had been long ago abandoned by its owners, and was now a biker gang headquarters. After consuming the previous occupants.and boarding up the windows, the Seven went to sleep for the day. Janus slept on the pool table, Veronique on the bar, while Bubba and Simon slept on the floor, handcuffed together (Simon being an early riser). Tariq and Jessy had taken the managers room, and asked for an hour of privacy before they left.

"After all" Jessy had said, coquettishly winking one stye-ridden eye, "Tarry here has to learn the value of keeping ones promises". Tarriq just grinned, sheepishly and a little gloatingly. Janus decided to leave it at that for his own peace of mind, and the stability of his stomach. He knew they were PROBABLY only sharing blood, but he couldn't help thinking of rumors he'd heard over the years. About Kindred who had actually managed to have sex post-Embrace. He felt quasy thinking of those two doing…that.

When night fell, the pack spent the promised hour reviewing the facts:

The Cardinal has a serious problem, one he feels cannot be handled by any of the packs he controls

Our specialty is killing Elders, so it seems likely that an Elder is involved

His problem is obviously VERY severe, since we are a pack controlled only by the Sabbat Leadership.

The Black Hand has NOT been called in (This was due to Jessy's snooping en route via the cities rats)

Not a pretty picture. An Elder, likely very powerful, was on the loose somewhere in the Cardinal's desmenes. For some reason, he felt the need to put himself deeply in debt to others to get them sent here, and yet he had not contacted the most feared force within the Sabbat, the Black Hand. Not good.

One hour after sunset, to the minute, the manager's door opened. Out stepped Jessy, looking very…satisfied. Tarriq followed, wearing the biggest smile anyone had ever seen the Arabic man wear. Everyone else looked uncomfortable and/or slightly ill. Apparently, Janus wasn't the only one to not want to think about a Nosferatu getting physical.

Simon broke the silence with his usual lack of tact "Well, now that you two have gotten your rocks off and turned our stomachs, can we get going? I, for one, don't want to be anywhere near this place anymore. Those two have defiled it with their horizontal mamboing."

"Why you crazy little-" Jessy began, stalking towards the Malkavian, when her lover put a restraining hand on her shoulder, and said quietly.

"He is not worth it. Jessica. Leave it be."

"Fine." She sighed. Simon smirked.

"Damn right. Bubba, I gotta apologize for what I said on the road. You know…"

"I know Simon, don't worry. You just don't like being chained. But sometimes its gotta be done." The big man spoke slowly, and with a great degree of patience. He and Simon were actually fairly close, which was why Bubba was usually chosen to restrain the mad priest.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Hey, boss-man, we got time for the Vaulderie?"

Janus spoke for the first time that night "I doubt it. Protocol dictates that the guest arrive exactly on time. Which brings me to my next point: This will be the first time any of you've been invited into a Tzimisce's Haven. This is extremely important to us, and I can't teach you all the rules of ettiquette, so just keep quiet, do as I do, and whatever you do DON'T talk business until he does. He WILL kill you, instantly, and he'll be right to do it. Now let's go."

They mounted their bikes and left the ghouls to guard the place. One of the men had gone on a food run, and returned with pizzas, drinks, and snacks, so they could be left for a prolonged period. They rode into Phoenix.

The Cardinal's 'manse' was an enourmous abandoed mansion AN: Think the Cryptkeepers house in 'Tales from the Crypt' the live action show. The gates were rusted and squeaky, the windows in the house cracked and some were partly broken. Nevertheless, security was clearly tight. Guards were everywhere, Kindred and ghoul alike. Packs of creatures that might once have been dogs roamed the grounds, a testament to the power of the Tzimisce art of Fleshcrafting. They were half as tall as a man, and weighed more than a hundred pounds each, pure muscle. Their fangs were so large, some had trouble closing their mouths completely.

A few of the guards displayed similar 'enhancements'. Some had eyes in the back of their heads- literally. Others had extra arms grafted on, to carry more weapons.

"Cute" was Simon's comment "but they ain't winning any prizes in the Westminster dog show"

"Please" Veronique spoke up "Keep your inane babbling to yourself. That way I can pretend you don't exist, and be happy"

A sudden look of suspicion crossed Simon's face "What's that supposed to mean?" He asked, quietly. Everyone tensed up. When Simon got quiet, Simon got dangerous.

"Well" Bubba said, plainly having given the matter some thought "I reckon it means she don't like you Simon. Just like you don't like her"

Simon relaxed, slightly. "Yeah, that's probably it. Stuck up bitch…"

Finally, after numerous security checks and mental probes by Kindred skilled in Auspex, they were lead into the house. The interior was no more opulent then the exterior. The walls were dingy and had numerous holes. The celing was stained from smoke (presumably the place had been in a fire at some point), the hard-wood floors were warped and stained. Security cameras were everywhere and armed guards patrolled the halls, in groups of three. One of each team was Kindred, armed with a submachine gun. The others were mortals, one with a flamethrower, the other with a walkie talkie and a large handgun.

Jeff spoke "Friendly place. I could recommend a good decorator, or failing that, and efficient demolitions company"

Janus said shaply "Shut up. All of you. DO as I say, and we'll be all right"

The Cardinal swept into view. He wore a black overcoat, with a frilly white shirt underneath. "Welcome! Welcome! Be welcome in my home, most honoured guests! " He seemed genuinely overjoyed to see them, greeting them as a mortal would long-lost family.

Thus began the elaborate Tzimisce welcoming ritual. It had been established centuries ago, when the Tzimisce had ruled Eastern Europe, and had carved it into innumberable autonomous kingdoms, and each vampire had been king of his realm. When one vampire visited another, the ritual provided a way to avoid inadvertant slights due to differing cultures (for instance of Russian versus Hungarian), and eased the tensions among enemies. All actions, all words, had to be carefully coordinated. The perfect welcome honored host and guest, reflecting the hosts generosity and wealth as well as the guest's gratitude and status. A mistake shamed both, and some had chosen suicide rather than live with such disgrace.. A wilfull deviation provided grounds for killing, in any way the offended party deemed fitting, and had caused no small number of feuds.

"You are far too kind to we humble travelers, most honored host. We merit none of the fine treatment you have shown us this night" Janus said, his voice reflecting perfect humility and gratitude as befitted a guest.

"Nonsense! You honor my manse with your presence. Now, come, we must feast to commemorate this joyous occasion." Zumarraga led them to an elaborate dining hall. The center of the room was occupied by an immense wooden table, on which were eight huge gold chalices filled with blood.

Janus stopped his companions and whispered "Do not drink until I do, and then wait util I'm done". Zumarraga, of course, heard this, but it was an accepted variant of the ritual, designed for those with childer or ghouls present who might not know correct rites, and wished to avoid making a scene. Taking his seat, to the Cardinal's immediate right, Janus said, "A toast! To our most excellent host Cardinal Zumarraga of the fief of Phoenix! May his nights be long and his desmes peaceful!"

As ceremony dictated Zumarraga himself drank first , from Janus' cup, to accept the compliment, and as a gesture of good faith that the blood was not toxic or tainted in any way. He drained the chalice, then proposed a toast "To the continued health of my guests, Jeff Blune, Veronique DuMars, Percival Rockwell (Sion's eyes leapt to Bubba, letting him know this would NOT be forgotten), Simon Myers, Jessica Quinn, Tariq Al'Akim, and Janus Zapolski. May there stay under my eaves be long and happy, as may there lives"

Janus drained the blood from Zumarraga's cup, and the others followed suit.

Zumarraga intoned "The rites are concluded. All are welcome in my Haven"

Simon burst out "all that's necessary every time you have a guest!"

Janus and Zumarraga both smirked "Not quite mister Myers. What you witnessed was an etremely abbreviated version, designed for situations of where time is pressing. The complete formalities of Welcoming require at least three hours of perfectly memorized ritual speaches, recitation of ancestry as far back as possible, the exchange of gifts, and numerous toasts. I'm actually a bit sorry I didn't get a chance to do the whole thing tonight, its been so long. Come with me, if you please."

Again, Zumarraga took the lead. He lead them from the stately dining room to a rather less opulent office suite. Here, Kindred sat at telephones, receiving reports. Faxmachines, computers, and modems at every desk. It seemed tht Zumarraga's Old World hospitality did not preclude New World efficiency. There was even a watercooler in the corner, albeit filled with blood. Sure enough three vampires were standing around chatting, until they saw the Cardinal, at which point they rushed back to work. Zumarraga just smiled.

Finally, they reached the main office. Zumarraga sat down behinda medium sized desk, also equipped with a computer, and motioned to seven chairs arranged so he could look each one in the face without much effort.

"I suppose" he said "you are surprised by the modernity of my manse? You should not be. This is after all, the heart of the South, and much transpires each night that I and my advisors must know of. Then there are orders, some of which are very pressing, which must be relayed over great distances. These " he said, gesturing at the electronics on the desk "are simply the most efficient way of doing these things. Although" he added, a small smile playing on his face "I will admit that I find the Internet to be most entertaining. I have learned much of the world, in a very short time. Now, to business"

Simon was gratefull. All that earlier talk of 'honored guest' and 'honored host' frankly bored him stiff. "So, what's this big problem you got, Monsignor? I'm guessin' an Elder's loose, 'cause that's the Magnificent Seven's specialty. Possibly some Lupines're involved, judgin' by the way you stared at Bubba's seat warmer. An' I'm guessin its all super-secret double-hush-hush,cause otherwise the Hand'd be here. So, what's up"

Silence. Simon was so annoying most of the time, that people had a habit of forgetting that he was also very intelligent.

"Yes" Zumarraga finally said "Yes, that accurately sums up the high points of my dilemma. But I will flush it out. There is a small California city called Powtanville. It isn't very important in and of itself, just over eighty thousand of the Kine living their, and about a dozen Anarchs. The problems are these, and please do not interrupt:

First, the Camarilla is putting out feelers in Powtanville. Normally we would not care, but we believe this to be part of a general move to retake California from the Anarchs. Their success in San Fransisco seems to have emboldened them. The Sabbat of course wish to nip this endeavour in the bud. The Camarilla representative is a Ventrue of no small experience named Peter Swift. One of your taks is to kill him.

Second, a group of Lupines, four we believe, belonging to what they call the Get of Fenris tribe, have also arrived in Powtanville. We do not like having Lupines this close to our borders, and certainly not these berzerkers. Exterminate them.

Third…there are...rumors of an…Ancient in Powtanville" Here Zumarraga looked decidedly uncomfortable, and fell silent.

After about thirty seconds of silence, Veronique prompted "What sort of Anciet, Your Eminence? Another Methusaleh?"

"Far more severe than that, childe. I have sufficient resources to deal with oe of them, formidable though they are"

Simon spoke next "Well, if its an Antedeluvian, I gotta admit, we're gonna need help. We're tough but not that tough. Those motherfuckers're…"

"More serious even than that"

Janus said "What could possibly be more serious than…" he trailed off. The Seven's expressions, which until now had run the gammut from interest to annoyance, all changed to shock, as the same thought occurred to them all at the same time.

Bubba voice what they were all thinking "You-you can't POSSIBLY mean…"

Zumarraga gave a curt nod "I do, indeed. Caine has been sighted in Powtanville. Your final task is to try to establish contact with Our Father. Needless to say this is your most important objective, though the only one for which failure will be accepted. Good luck."

With that, a guard entered the office and lead the stunned Kindred to the front gate. Hous later, Bubba finally broke the shocked silence.

"Shee-it."

End Chapter 1

Author's notes: Pretty good start if I do say so myself. A word on the style of the coming chapters. Some will be in 3rd person, like this one. But others will be in the 1st, showing how the different pack members view the situation. I'm also thinking about doing a chapter from Caine's POV. Quite looking forward to that one actually, going to be a challenge.

Oh, and if anyone can provide a bit of info on Sabbat rites (or point out a website with this info) I'd be grateful.

Read and Review folks!


	2. chapter 2

The Siege of Powtanville

Chapter 2

Back at the bar, the Magnificent Seven were recovering from their briefing. Simon, the oack priest, was ecstatic. "CAINE! Caine HIMSELF is in this town! Fuck, you guys, I been dreaming about meeting Caine since the second I was Embraced back at the hospital! There's all kindsa stuff I wanna ask Him, like what did Malkav DO to get cursed, or Nosferat? Or what's God actually sound like? Was Eve as hot as I always figured? Where in the hell did his brother Seth get a wife? Or…"

Veronique cut him off "… or have your Clan always been as annoying as they are? Can it, preacher, we aren't gonna find Caine. If Big Daddy don't want to be found then He ain't gonna be found"

Simon responded angrily "Yeah? And how do you know He doesn't want us to find Him, bitch? We're just as good as any Kindred alive today, so we have as much chance at seeing Him as any. Plus, he's already BEEN found, remember? Someone saw Him"

"No" the LaSombra woman corrected "they THINK they saw him. They say they saw someone using Disciplines they'd never heard of, and doing shit they didn't know was possible. Could be Him, I admit. Could also be a mage, or a halucination, or one of those Asian vampires, the Koo-ee-gin"

"Kuei-Jin" Tariq corrected quietly. He had had experience with those strange beings, experience he had been reluctant to discuss with the others. He had eventually told the pack how his Assamite superiors had sent him to kill a powerful Kuei-Jin leader. He had barely escaped Asia alive, and it was this more than anything else which led to his joining the Sabbat. "and the Kuei-Jin could not be mistaken for one of us, not even Caine. For one thing they are Asians, and for another, their powers are radically different from ours."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Point is, we don't know if its Him or not. What we DO know is that there are two other things we gotta take care of in Powtanville, and they're a lot more pressing. I ain't eager to tangle with furballs, not at seven-to-four odds. Well, five to four, really, since the preacher and the Creep aren't all that useful in fights"

"Not to mention the Camarilla" Bubba added "They's pussies, but I ain't happy turning my back on 'em while we deal with the other shit. Hey! Maybe Simon and Jessy can handle 'em, they should be tough enough for that" Sad thing was, Bubba wasn't trying to be mean. He just thought killing Camarilla spies to be more in line with his packmates abilities.

Jessy wasn't particularly displeased. She hated the Camarilla with a passion, because she felt they drove the Nosferatu into the sewers. Plus, she knew she wasn't up to a Wolf Hunt. Tariq had been teaching her comabat, but she was a long way from ready to deal with six-hundred plus pounds of pissed off werewolf.

"Fuck you both" Simon replied "I get the job done. Anyway, we can't just give this up or put it aside. We've got a chance here that's been given to maybe fifty Kindred since the Flood, a chance to meet Our Father! Who knows if He'll still be in town when we finally get around to looking for Him. If we can make contact…" he let himself trail off, to give the others a chance to fill in the blanks. They did. Power, prestige, never-ending renown, the answers to questions which plagued all Kindred, establishing contact with Caine would bring them all those things and more.

Janus finally intervened, more to shut Simon and Veronique up than anything else. They were giving him a headache, which as a vampire should have been impossible. "We can do both. People, we can't just focus on one problem at a time here, as useful as that would be. If we take out one enemy first, the other will catch wind of it, making our jobs that much harder"

Jeff, in a tone that sounded more Brujah than Ventrue, interjected "Yeah, so? If they're warned its more fun. Not much challenge killing someone by surprise" _Yep. Definitely need to have a little chat with him_ Janus thought. _Later_

"Perhaps. But there are two problems with barging in without thinking. First, it would greatly increase the chances of failure. The Magificent Seven have never failed, and while its true there's a first time for everything, this isn't it. Second" he decided to lighten the mood a bit "I've spent a lot of time getting used to your ugly faces, and I don't want to have to go through that again with new bloods." Some laughter, and a generally lighter mood.

"Okay, boss-man" Veronique said once the room quieted down "so what's your brilliant plan?" Again her voice held a hint of challenge. Once again Janus wondered how much he could count on the LaSombra.

"As a matter of fact I do. Jessy, Tariq, Bubba and Simon will go into town first. There job will be to find the targets, and to keep an eye on the Camarilla agent or agents. Me, you, and Jeff will come in 2 or 3 nights later, after we pick up some silver bullets to supplement our stock of normal and phosphorous rounds. Then, once the Kindred've been pegged, we go after the Lupines. All the while, though, we keep our eyes and ears open for signs of Caine. If you're not fighting or working I want you looking for Him. BUT" here he looked directly at Simon "if you ARE fighting or working you keep your mind on the job. Clear?"

"Crystal"

"Yeah, yeah"

"Okay"

"An acceptable plan"  
"Still think Caine should be priority 1…"

grunt 

Janus was about to move to the next order of business, when one of the ghouls timidly interrupted him.

It was Tim McNarthy, an ex-cop ghouled to Jessy. "Excuse me, lord, but what are we to do? The War Ghouls don't like to be kept waiting for long periods, that's why I ask."

"A few points to remember, ghoul . First, I know more about my War Ghouls than you ever will, so do not presume to lecture me about their care. Second, you will wait for your instructions as you wait for your blood. Third, the ghouls will be split in two. Six of you will work in the daytime, guarding us. The others will spend their nights looking for Caine, unless otherwise instructed.. Fourth, McNarthy…"

He grabbed the unfortunate ghoul and lifted him up int the air. Calling on his mastery of Viscitude, he used a technique called Skin Trap. A layer of skin shot off his left arm, and encased McNarthy's face like a plastic bag. McNarthy kicked and struggled for a while and then became still. When Janus returned his skin to his arm, McNArthy's face was a mottled blue.

"…never interrupt me again" Janus finished, dropping the corpse before turning to his fellows. "Get rid of that. I don't want to see it again". He returned his gaze tp the Seven "Any more questions?"

Tariq spole up "You mentioned the ghouls looking for Caine. How will _they_ know Him? And where will we be sleeping?"

"I will give the ghouls a description of Caine. They probably won't find him, but they can search for rumors or signs of Him. As for the second question, that I leave to you and Bubba. Intelligence work not being your forte, I want you to scout the city. Find us a Lair, hunting grounds, and get a general feel for the city. All right, lets move"

The preparations for the journey went smoothly, largely because Simon was willing to be chained up. Normally getting him set to travel was a long, tiring procedure. First he had to be caught, then subdued, then chained, all the while holding him to prevent his getting away and ignoring the murderous threats and scathing insults he screamed at them. But not this time. This time when they went to look for him they found him in Bubba's side car, the chains already wrapped around him.

On seeing their amazed looks, Simon said "What? We all know you were going to do it, just like we all know I can't avoid it. I don't want to waste time on this when we could be looking for Caine, so I figured I'd just go along with it this time."

Bubba smiled. He hated having to do that to Simon every time they went somewhere. "Great idea, Simon. Now why can't you be this reasonable every time?"

"Shove it, _PERCIVAL. _I ain't forgotten the way you totally DIDN'T back me up on looking for Caine. Now, I left the stuff for the Rites back near te bar. Go get it wouldya, _PERCY_!" Simon invested Bubba's real name with an amazing amount of scorn and derision, so much so that the big man actually flinched each time he heard it. He went for the items, but was heard to mutter

"Dammit, I thought I left that name behind in Arkansas"

Everyone repressed smiles, except for Simon who laughed outright. Then they got on with chaining Simon, and getting ready to go.

They went about 50 miles before stopping. Janus turned to his pack.

"Okay, you all know what to do. Jeff, Veronique come with me, and bring the ghouls with you. The rest of you, good luck, and remember: I like my lair to have a good view."

Laughing, the Maginificent Seven split up. One group went to Los Angeles, there to resupply through that city's immense black market. The other entered Powtanville, a bit nervously. This was a big challenge, a pack of Lupines and the Camarilla. The addition of Caine only made things harder

AN: The next chapter will be done from Jessy's POV. Should be pretty amorous, though not physical (not a huge fan of love scenes). I will not be doing any chapters from Simon's POV, just because writing in the tone of a paranoiac is difficult. I've been trying but none of my attempts have been good enough for me.


	3. chapter 3

Siege of Powtanville Chapter 3

AN: I own squat. This chapter is from Jessy the Nosferatu's POV. If it seems to be rambling or disorganized at times, its because in my experience that's how most people's thoughts work.

Reason number 203 that I love my Unlife: Tariq still doesn't know I can ride a motorcycle. As far as he and the rest of the pack know, I was a perfect little debutante as a mortal, living in a smal New England town. I had nothing more to worry about than men, and how best to spend daddy's money. All true. I never got around to telling him (or any of the rest of the pack), that during my teenage rebellion phase, I rode with a small biker gang. That only lasted about a month, before one of the bastards tried to rape me. Probably best I never tell Tarry that part. Knowing my Arabian Knight, he'd haul us down to New England to hunt the bastard down. Since that was twenty years ago, he'd most likely end up wasting a balding, fat suburbanite who'd thank him for ending his misery, but that ain't the point. Point is, it'd be a waste of time.

Why is it so good that Tarriq does not know I can ride, you ask? Because he now insists that I cling to him as though my unlife depends on it. Seriously, I once let go to wave to someone, and he freaked out. Lectured me for an hour about how he "Could not bear the thought of an eternity without you, my desert flower, so please be mindfu of your safety" or something like that. I was actually pissed about the lecture, but that nickname pretty much ended that. Let's just say that night I was espescially thankful to the Toreador who taaught me how Kindred can have sex. Basically it's a matter of redirecting blood to the appropriate parts, and in a kind of self-hypnosis. Its kinda like the wheel. If you don't understand it, its almost impossible to get it. But once you do, it seems so obvious, you can't understand why you didn't see it immediately. Sharing blood is great and all, but sometimes you get that special itch that just HAS to be scratched.

Anyway, I'm clinging to Tarry pretty tight as we rode into Powtanville. I know how things'll be, for a little while anyway. We may fool around a lot (me and Tarry espescially) but when we got a job, the Magnificent Seven're all business. So, no loving 'til things're set up. Once I'd establish my intelligence net (making contact with the rats, setting up my PC and hacking into the key places, finding snitches among the Anarchs) and Tarry'd found our Lair, though…I grin momentarily. _He'd better not tire himself out too much looking for that Lair, 'cause he's gonna need his stamina_! I think to myself, and squeeze him tighter.

As usual he seems to know what I'm thinking, or at least know that I'm getting horny, 'cause he says "Patience, my love. All things are sweeter for waiting".

Unfortunately, Simon somehow hears this. Most of the time the little nutjob is Ok, and he can be damn funny when he's picking on someone else. But right now he's chained in a sidecar (which always makes him extra pissy) and decides to pick on us, saying "Damn, girl! You're STILL horny! Tarriq, man, you better not get killed, or she's liable to go after the rest of us. YUCK!"

I hate it when others rag on my looks. I mean, yeah, I'm ugly as shit, but Tarriq doesn't care. There are times when its just the two of us, that I can forget how I look, which isn't common with Nosferatu. Even when other Kindred aren't around to gawk at us, we know what we are. Normally, though, the rest of our pack are pretty good about it, except for the LaSombra bitch. There're only two things Simon and me agree on: One, Jimmy Hendrix and the Beatles are the only good things to come outta the Sixties, musically. Two, Veronique DuMArs is a stuck up bitch who desperately needs a sunbathing session. But, she is part of the Seven, so we learn to live with her, and confine ourselves to mocking her as frequently as we can.

We get into Powtanville and Tarry stops the bike. "I too regret the need to part, my love, but we each have work to do. I…do not deal well in your field" True. Tarry can move so quietly he once snuck past a pac of Lupines, but he terrifies potential snitches. He hates betrayal, even when it benefits us, and it comes thorugh on his face. "and Bubba should be sufficient to protect you". Tarry learned English from some Brit, so he's got this high-class English accent. This makes it HILARIOUS to hear him say Bubba's name.

"Yeah, well, be careful" I reply "I'd hate to have to find myself another Arabian stallion this late in the game. God knows it was hard enough taming you!" We kiss goodbye. For about five minutes. Simon starts coughing, and the last one sounds like "forgodssakestopit", so we pull apart. Damn, I'm gonna miss that. He will too, iff what I feel between his legs is any indication. He starts shifting his eyes around, the way he does when he's embarassed. God, I love that. I love HIM.

HE disappears, or seems to. No matter how many times I see it, that Quietus stuff gives me the Heebie-Jeebies. Unnatural. Bubba, me and Simon start looking for a manhole cover for me to use. We find it, and I pull it up, and use one hand to throw it aside (Vampiric strength, you gotta love it). Simon checks I've still got his cell phone number, and Bubba's as well. Simon hates enclosed spaces (we sometimes wonder if he might not be claustrophobic as well as paranoid) and so he aint coming. Bubba hates the smell, and besides, someone has to make sure that Simon doesn't start killing every thing he thinks is watching him (he once took out a stop light for that very reason, swear to God).

I send out a mental Call to the city's rat population. It doesn't translate well into any normal language, but basically I say "Two-Legs-Who-Talks is here, and needs help from Four-Legs-In-Dark". It'll be a while before they come, not because they're far way but because rats don't trust easy. They'll want to check me out, make sure this isn't some sort of trick, before they'll talk. As always when I wait, I think about my pack. They're closer to me then my family ever was. Daddy was always busy with The Company's Business, while Mummy was too worried The Eyes Of This Community and how they saw us to spend much Quality Time with me. That's never been a problem since I was recruited by the Magnificent Seven. I think about each one in turn.

Janus, the boss. Strong,smart, and funny, he's like our father. You got a problem? Take it to Janus; even if he can't fix it, he'll do what he can for you. Trouble is, he likes being boss a bit too much. You argue with him, he acts like you're questioning his authority, and not just his plan. Also, if Quietus is creepy, Viscitude is downright scary. Sometimes I have daymares about Janus getting pissed and using that shit on ME. Brrr…

Jeff, the #2 man. He's like our mother. He watches out for us, helps out when he can and takes zero shit from us. I once dissed his clothes, said only a Ventrue would pay as much for a leather jacket as he would for a suit. HE just punched me, and said that he didn't like it when people insulted him. That same night, though, he beat the bejeezus out of some Gangrel who was talking shit about me, so I guess he's OK. Still, ever since the Generation Jump a few nights back, he's been…weird. I once overheard him talking to himself, like an argument. I didn't stick around to here what about, though.

Simon, our priest. As I said, a funny guy if he isn't aimed at you. Since me and him are the packs non-combat specialists , we tend to spend a lot of time together. His official role, other than priest, is Disruption. He really mastered Dementation, and with a bit of work, can plunge a good part of a city into chaos inside of three nights. We talk a lot, about Kindred life, about philosophy (Simon's a Utilitarian, I'm more of a Mills Liberal- people should be allowed to do whatever the fuck they want so long as they don't bother anyone else), and just general chatting and gossip. Still, its hard to really let go around him. One time, soon after I'd joined the pack, he got it into his warped little brain that I wa s a Camarilla spy. Sent Tariq into a coma with Dementation, and came at me with a chainsaw. If Janus hadn't stepped in, he'd probably have killed me. As it was, it took me 3 nights to heal. Tariq beat him so bad, it was 6 nights before he could stand, so I guess its all even.

Can't mention Simon without Bubba. Strong and stupid, but the sweetest Kindred I ever met. I don't mean he's sunshine and flowers to the Kine. He'll kill any of 'em if he has to, its just that like the rest of us, he's got better thngs to do.

Veronique's a bitch. Convinced she's the only REAL Sabbat here, and she loves tormenting the mortals. Sick, really. Once, she made two brothers fight to the death, saying she'd let the winner live. She lied. If she were running this pack, my ass would be dead, again. She thinks no Nosferatu can be trusted in the Sabbat, just because we don't hate our parent Clan like poison. Nuff said. I don't think we need to go over my feelings about Tariq, so…

_Two-Legs-Who-Talks, hear me. I am Eldest-In-Darkness. What do you need from us?_ The words echo in my brain, part of the Animalism discipline.Eldest-In-Darkness means the oldest rat in the sewer, and the one who speaks for the rest. Rats aren't group animals, but like Kindred there'll generally be one who speaks for the rest. They've got a kind of shared mind thing going, so in speaking to him I'm speaking to every rat in town.

I outline what we need them to look for. The Lupines (which for some reason translates as Bonegnawer-Kin) are priority #1, followed by the Camarilla (Two-Legs-Who-Smell-Of-Blood). I can't really translate Caine, so I flash an image. Its from a painting done by the Toreador _anti-tribu_ Primogen Santino, about 300 years ago. The rats agree to keep an eye out. When you consider Powtanville has 10,209 rats, that's more than enough for me. In exchange, I promise them food. Basically, we'll dump the bodies here, for the rats to eat. 4 Lupines, a bunch of Camarilla ghouls, and probably more than a few Powtanvillers who we need for blood…yeah, it's a good deal all around

The rats go their way and I go mine. Now I just gotta find a nice, quiet grotto to set up my computer and shit. Can't use the Lair, Janus having a thing about eggs and baskets. So, the sewer it is. Needs to have a power outlet, and be near a wireless Net area. I find one pretty quick, but not alone. There's another Nosferatu approaching. There's no question about possession; I was here first, and there're plenty of other places in the sewer. Its just a question of which side he's on, and even then it ain't gonna get violent, or even confrontational. Sewer Rat or Creep, we're all Nosferatu, and we got enough problems without killing one another. So, when faced with another Nossie of the opposite Sect, we generally just ignore one another, although we will share info if its nothing important.

He's ugly, like all of us. His skin is a jaundiced yellow with lotsa boils and warts, and his arms are way to long. His posture is like a gorillas. His eyes are completely black, except for the red irises, and his mouth is full of fangs. He's got a ratty little pony tail, and his ears are like an elfs in one of those fantasy games (don't ask me why but Tariq likes 'em; one reason he's happy to carry my computer), except that one of 'ems piereced a dozen times. That gives me hope.

"You an Anarch?" I ask, hoping, but not expecting. Nosferatu generally stay with others of the Clan, so its rare to find one who isn't part of one Sect or the other.

"Sorry, Camarilla. Name's Wheeze, if you care. And by the way your face fell, I'm guessing you're Sabbat?"

"Yup. Jessy Quinn, Magnificent Seven, just out of Dallas. You gonna tell that Ventrue, whatzisname, Swift I'm here?"

He hawks and spits. It clears twenty feet. "Hunh! Not unless that stuckup pissant asks. If he does, I gotta tell; Prince Carmen's orders. But if not…well Clan comes first, and we uglies gotta stick together"

"Thanks, I'll do the same. Hey, don't suppose I could interest you in defecting? Sabbat life's pretty good. I don't have to live in the sewers, and I even got me a hot lover"

He whistles, impressed "Hot lover, eh? Nice going. But I'll pass on the Sabbat, you guys are asking for trouble being so open with the Kine. Take care of yourself sweet thing, and, if things go your way, try to let me go if you can? Do what you want with Swift, fucker treats me like shit, but I kinda like living. I'll do the same, and even extend it to your lover boy."

I smile. _Sweet thing, yet!_ "Deal. Hey…" I ask. Probably nothing, but with this, its always best to be sure, so I ask this question every time I hit a new city "you hear any thing about Nikutu around? "

"Naw. Some rumors of Caine, that's what I'm here to check out, but nonea them thank God. Don't fret, Jess, you'll spoil your looks! And don't worry, any info on Caine I'll share with you. Don't matter who finds Him, so long as He gets found."

We're both glad of that. Nikutu are Nosferat's FAVORITE childer. See, we Nosferatu are all descended from one Childe of his who betrayed him, which caused Caine to curse him and us with ugliness. Crazy fuck decided if he could kill us all he'd get his good looks back. So he sent his other Childer out to get us. They're uglier'n we are, 4th or 5th Generation (they Embraced some new ones on their own), and completely fixated on killing us. I've heard stories of whole Nosferatu UnderCities vanishing overnight, no survivors. Some say that ONE of them wiped out 90 of the Kindred in Russia. So if one was around, me and Wheeze'd do our best to get both sides together to hunt it down. Sabbat wouldn't have to much problem with killing an Ancient that dangerous, and the Camarilla'd be worried about their precious Masquerade being broken by a berzerk monster.

"Whew, load offa my mind lemme tell you. Later nights, bro. Lets hope we see each other again some other night, in peace"

And he leaves, walking through the Stew (Nosferatu term for the rivers of God-Knows-What that flow in the sewer- not just shit, but biowaste, dead things, toxic runoff...) like it's a field of roses. I'll tell Janus about this, of course, but I know he understands. Its happened before, and never hurt much. He knows its just how we Nosferatu are, and that this way, if Wheeze hears anything about Caine, there's a good chance he'll share. And he'll let me let Wheeze go; we usually let one Camarilla go to tell the others what happened. Makes us scarier. Tariq knows too, but that's it. Veronique'd pitch aa fit, try to get me killed as a Camarilla agent. Simon might freak on me agai. Bubba'd listen to Janus, but that'd be the end of our friendship. Jeff's a little harder to predict, espescially now.

Anyway, I've found what I wanted, and so I signal Tariq to bring my Rig (my computer) to the manhole. He won't want to come down, and I'm pretty pleased with him today so I won't make him. I do, sometimes, when he's pissing me off with his whole 'more-centered- than-thou' thing. Or when his…performance has been lacking. Just a subtle reminder that if Jessy ain't happy, Tariq ain't happy. He does the same to me. I've noticed that when I piss him off, suddenly our training sessions get a lot more intense and painful. Ah, Love. Seeing who can vent their anger in the subtlest and most unpleasant way. Somehow, I don't think poets have quite gotten around to that aspect of love just yet.

When I go topside to pick up my rig, I'm surprised and a little worried to be greeted by Simon instead of Tarry.

"Where's Tarry?" I ask. Blunt is best some situations.

"What? You mean I ain't good enough? Jessy I'm hurt. Why pursue that Assassin when you could have all of this?" Simon gyrates his hips.

"Uh-huh. Why don't I just tell Tariq about that offer, that is if you ever tell me where he is" I answer, deadpan now. I know Simon wouldn't make jokes like that if something was wrong. He's crazy, not a prick.

"Go right ahead. He knows who the better man is" I snort "OK fine, your loss baby. Anyway, Tariq's cross town looking for a Lair, and delegated the task of crawling around in Shit Central to me. Lets get this over with, huh?"

Simon takes the monitor and mouse, while I take the computer itself, the keyboard and the wires. Its not that he's being rude, but with vampire strength either one of us could have carried the whole business. If we had about four arms. Besides, Simon being Simon, I'm more comfortable carrying the important things. If he freaks out, all I lose is a monitor and a mouse, which can be ripped off any store. The data in my hard drive is irreplaceable.

As we go Simon and I talk. Finally, he brings up the subject (well one of 'em) that I know the pack's been curious about. "Jessy, I gotta ask how did a prissy little WASP like you were end up Embraced by a Nosferatu? And how'd you get into the Magnificent Seven"

"So, finally got the guts to ask, eh? Well, OK, but first I know you're also dying to know the story behind me and Tarry, so I'm gonna say this: That's private. Cool?"

"Yeah, cool. Now spill, dammit. This place is nasty, and I want something else to think about"

"All right. Prepare your soul for the epic tale of Jessica Quinn. I was your average New England society girl. Rich, well-bred, spoiled, selfish. Oh, I gave money to all the right charities, but it was more a social thing than an altruistic one. Anyway, one day I'm hanging on a city street corner. It was Mount Pellier, and I was there visiting a friend. MY car'd broke down so I was waiting on a bus. Only other person there's this old homeless guy, real filthy and all. He start's clutchin' his chest, and falls over. I don't do anything, because I didn't want to touch him, and besides, not my problem. Someone else could take care of it, I figured. But no one did, and he died. Now, ninety-nine times out of a hundred, this would be just a bad memory, only the old bum was a friend of a Camarilla Nosferatu living in the sewer. One of her ghouls saw the whole thing, but couldn't get there in time. She yelled at me but because she looked homeless, I just told her to fuck off before I got a cop. I figured I was rich enough that nothing could hurt me. WRONG-O!

See, that Nosferatu found out where I lived. One night she busts in to my house, kills my parents and is about to kill me, but when I offered her money to spare me, she gets a better idea. She says, "You think money and looks are gonna save you? After what you let happen to my pal, Joey? Maybe you'f like to see what its like with neither!" and she Embraced me, then dragged me to the sewers.

Next few nights are horrible, 'cause part of the Nossie Embrace is that your body starts to warp and change, as Nosferat's curse comes into effect. By the end, I looked like this, and was living in a sewer. I ran off, hoping to find someone who could help me. My Sire didn't care, she'd done it as an object lesson, and had planned to kill me later on, once she got bored. I found some Kindred who heard my story and promised me revenge. We hunted the bitch who did this to me down and killed her. They were a Sabbat pack, Maggie's Madboyz, six Malks and a Brujah Leader. They taught me what I needed to know, but when it came to Disciplines, they needed help. Maggie only knew Potence, Fortitude, and Presence. I learned Fortitude, but didn't have enough combat skill to make Potence worthwhile. So they found a Nossie _anti-tribu_ to teach me our Disciplines Obfuscate and Animalism. I got so good, guy calling himself Skye heard tell of my abilities. Gave me a test, find out his REAL name, which he had kept secret for the purpose of the test.

None of the city's Kindred knew, but the rats did. They'd heard him talking to the city's Arch-Bishop, introducing himself. So, when he came back I said "Hello Janus Zapolski!". He offered me a place in the Seven, where I've been for the last nine years."

Simon stays silent, thinking this over. I decide I need something else to think about, to keep my mind off Tarry running around a city filled with Lupines, Camarilla, and who knows what all else. "So, what about you? How'd you wind up Embraced by a Malk?"

He laughs. "You are never gonna believe this, but once upon a time Simon the Malkvian Priest was Simon the Psychology Intern. See, I always was interested in madness, since my dad went crazy when I was five. He wasn't psychotic, but one day he just flipped, started screaming about how 'they' were watching him. SO, many years of schooling later, I'm interning in Bellevue mental hospital. I saw it all. Pyromaniacs, manic depressives, paranoiacs, Multiple personalities, and about six guys claiming to be Jesus even when we put 'em all in the same room. One night, I pull graveyard shift. So, I'm running an errand for one of the docs, when this weird looking dude pops up outta nowhere. He's got this long filthy hair down to his knees, a bit like Cousin Itt but grimier. Stank like crazy, too. Anyway, he says 'You seek to understand Madness, but you are on the wrong path. The path of Reason will never lead you to your goal.'.. Now, its well after lights out, so I know this guy shouldn't be out. He looked dangerous, so I decide to humor him and ask what I should do. He gives me this weird look, like he's just decided I desrve an answer, and says 'Why, embrace madness. And be Embraced _by_ the madness'. HE cackles, and jumps me. Next thing I know, I'm in the ground. I dig my way out, and someone tells me I'm part of the Sabbat.

I ran with a buncha packs, as a grunt and later as a priest. Just before I joined the Seven, I was part of a siege in New Mexico. I won it by using Lunatic Eruption to send the whole city nuts with rage. Camarilla don't deal well with chaos, and we were able to kill 'em all. Two nights later, Janus' sire, Bolislav, approaches me. I been in this pack since then, thirty five years."

"wow" I say "YOU went to med school? As a student?"

"Shut up."

"I mean, I figured you'd been in an asylum, but I always figured as a patient"

"I said shut up"

"Hey, doc" I grin, enjoying the rare oppurtunity to tease Simon "I get these headaches, anything you can do?"

"Yeah, I can take your mind off your head by kicking your ass. Now shut up"

A deep, English-accented voice says "I suggest you both shut up. Unless, of course, you WANT everyone within five blocks to hear you bickering"

"TARRY!" I rush to him, tackling him in my haste to hug him. He flies backwards, I hit that hard, and we land in the Stew.

"BLECH! Jessy! I appreciate your eagerness to see me but I just bought these clothes!" That's my Tarry. He loves to cover his feelingsby pretending I just piss him off.

We've been in Powtanville for less than a night, and already we're ahead of schedule. I only hope the others are doing as well in L.A.

End chapter 3

AN: Does anyone have info relating to the Kindred of the East? If so, send it to my e-mail (In my profile) apparently doesn't allow websites in reviews.


	4. ch4

The warehouse was a gloomy place, poorly lit, hardly ventilateda and filthy. More or less what Janus had come to expect when dealing with the black market, really. It was hardly practical to buy vast amounts of ammunition in a boardroom. The wasrehouse was simply the logical choice.

Janus didn't particularly mind. As a vampire, things like lighting and filth didn't bother him much, and since he was Sabbat, he saw no reason to act as though they did. The arms dealer, how ever, was clearly uncomfortable, as were his five armed guards. They shifted on their feet, and kept looking around the warehouse, as though some horrible beast lurked there.

_Well, technically speaking that's true, but I doubt they really know it. More likely they don't like being in cold, dank, dark places_ He thought. For the tenth time he reviewed the plan. It was a simple one, and in situations like this, such plans were best. Basically, get the arms dealer to show them the weapons and ammo, wait for the ghouls signal that the coast was clear, then kill the gunrunner. Deal with the guards, planting evidence that the Giovanni (who maintained a small presence here) had done it to eliminate competition. This would cause a mob war, and in the ensuing havoc, the three Sabbat vampires could depart for Powtanville.

What little humanity remained in Janus felt little qualms about it; these men were not only criminals but killers, so what was the problem if they got the tables turned on them? The Magnificent Seven had never been in L.A before, it being an anarch town, so no one knew them. He had used Viscitude to craft new faces for himself and his packmates. He hadn't minded, but Jeff and Veronique had found the sensation to be…unpleasant. Few outside Clan Tzimisce appreciated the sensation of flesh and bone melting, then reshaping themselves.

Before coming to Los Angeles, Jeff's face had been almost aristocratic. Short blonde hair, blue eyes, small nose, and high cheek bones. Now, he looked like an ex-boxer; mangled nose, cauliflower ears, a broad face and short brown hair. "Definitely NOT an improvement" had been his comment "boss, you better be able to fix this or I'll have you arrested for vandalizing a work of art"

"Oh quit griping" he'd replied "You've got character now, and don't look so much like a pretty-boy. Besides, if you keep on bitching at me, I might just leave you like that"

"PRETTY-BOY! Why I ought to.."

At this point Veronique realized what she looked like. Being LaSombra, she couldn't look in a mirror, so she was confined to touching her face to see what it now looked like. She shrieked.

_ SIGH Perhaps I shouldn't have treated this as an opportunity for a joke_

In a fit of dark humor, Janus had taken her beautiful, haughty features, and radically changed them. Veronique duMars now looked like an ancient bag lady. She had a broad nose, warts, and numerous wrinkles. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME!"

_Yup. Definitely should have kept a professional attitude here_.

"Veronique, you agreed we needed new faces…" He began

"New FACE! I LOOK LIKE A NOSFERATU! You- you BUTCHER!" She wailed. Janus was beginning to lose his temper. Her problem with her face was puerile. She was a vampire, what did it matter if she wasn't pretty? Anyway, it was just temporary, once they were out of L.A he'd give her her old face back.

He was about to point this out when Jeff decided to be funny.

"What's the matter Veronique? I think it's a big improvement! I mean, before you were so…cookie-cutter. Now, you're truly unique".

Veronique didn't find this funny. The problem was that Veronique didn't really fit in well with the Seven. Where the others were perfectly content to play around, make jokes, and rag on one another, Veronique refused. She took little part in the social life of the pack, and seemed to regard them more as co-workers than anything else. Any attempts to 'kid' her were met with cold disapproval, a lack of understanding, or genuine insult, as was the case here.

With a shriek of rage, Veronique had launched herself at Jeff. This was a foolish maneuver at the best of times, but Jeff had recently lowered his Generation considerably, increasing his powers well beyond those of his LaSombra colleague. He caught her in mid-air and thrown her against a wall with ease.

Janus stepped in "Alright knock it off. Jeff, don't provoke her. Veronique quit acting like a Toreador priss; we need to look different for this to work. This is your face for the next few nights. Deal with it."

That had been last night. Now Veronique was…well, resigned was probably too strong a word, but she was bearing her new appearance. If she had been any other member of the pack, Janus would have been on the lookout for pay-back. Bubba or Jeff would've just punched him in the head a couple times, saying they preferred to reshape faces the old-fashioned way. Jessy'd dig around then astound the pack with some embarrassing secret about him. Simon would use Dementation to give him a really embarrassing and/or stupid bit of temporary insanity. Like that month he made Tariq morbidly afraid of the color purple, to pay him back for 'losing' the key to Simon's chains. But Veronique wouldn't get him back, she'd just NEVER FORGET. It was one other reason no one in the pack liked her. She just couldn't let things go.

Jeff, on the other had….Janus grimaced; he was going to be hurting after _that_ bit of karmic restitution. He made a mental note to get extra blood; he couldn't avoid what was coming but he could be ready to heal up.

Now though, the members of the Seven were all business. The runners seemed to have decided that Jeff was in charge, probably because he appeared to be a thug like themselves. All their body language was focused on him the dealer using it to make himself seem ingratiating, the guards to seem intimidating. Individually, it wasn't a bad attempt, but taken together, the two attempts clashed so badly as to seem ridiculous. Janus, who had had kindred, Lupines and mages all try to intimidate him at one time or another, had to restrain himself to keep from laughing. This was especially difficult for him, since he had long ago enacted the Viscitude ability Ecstatic Agony, which made biting his lip to hold in the laughs futile (it would just feel pleasurable). AS though he would ever bow to the will of Kine!

"You have what we wanted?" Jeff asked, deciding to cut off the dealers introductory chit-chat. They needed to get going, and had no time to waste on this small time Russian gunrunner.

"Yes. 100 rounds of silver-nitrate tipped bullets, 200 rounds explosive tipped, 3 Kalashinikov assault rifles, twelve pounds of Semtex, a grenade launcher with 20 rounds of grenades. But it was difficult to obtain such a…large order in so little time. I'm afraid I must ask for more money"

"I see" Jeff asked, quirking his lips "And what, pray tell, do you feel would be a fair price?"

"1.5 million should just cover my costs/" The Russian said, his manner shifting in response to Jeff's arrogance. HE went from servile to dominant (or an attempt at dominance) "If you cannot or will not pay, I and my associates would be most displeased". At the word 'associates' his goons cocked their weapons.

"Hmm. Here is my counter offer. You will give me the weapons, and I will pay you…nothing!" Jeff crowed the last word, and went into action, activating Celerity to enhance his speed.

Janus was amazed. This was the first time he had seen his packmate use Celerity since diablerizing the Elder. Jeff had always been fast, but this… This was astonishing. He seemed to be everywhere at once, hacking and slashing with his machete. In moments, the goon squad had been reduced to little more than a pile of quivering, bloody meat. The gunrunner was still alive, his face white with terror as he began to realize he was not dealing with run-of-the-mill gangbangers. Jeff turned towards him.

" Nothing like a bit of mayhem to renew the spirit, I always say! But it does work up a powerful thirst." He seized the Russian by the shirt and yanked him in close. Sinking is fangs into the man's throat, he drained him dry in a matter of seconds. "AHH! Good to the last drop. Pity his goons didn't have more fight in 'em…"

_Ooookay. Time for that chat._

"Veronique, take the guns out to the truck, get the ghouls to start loading up. Jeff stay with me, we need to talk"

Veronique, as usual, protested "I will not-". Unfortunately for her, Janus was in no mood.

He whirled around and, fleshcrafting his hand into a talon, slammed it down on her shoulder. He enjoyed her scream as his new claws tore into her. "You. Will. Do. As. I. Say."

She made no attempt to answer, but left with what dignity she could muster. Janus knew he'd be paying for that later. Janus ignored the thought for the time being, focusing on Jeff.

"You wanted to talk boss-man?" Jeff said, licking the blood off his machete.

"Yes. Jeff, this has to stop."

"What does?" Jeff seemed genuinely puzzled, as though he was unaware of the problem.

"This." He gestured at the blood, gore and human meat that was strewn around the warehouse "Jeff, whats happened to you? You were always a damn good fighter, and enjoyed it as much as any of us. But now you act more like a Brujah or a Lupine then a Ventrue, and its starting to be a real problem. Take tonight for instance. We were supposed to wait until the ghouls sent a signal confirming the gunrunner didn't have any friends waiting outside. For all we know this building could be ringed with snipers. Now, whats up?"

Jeff's cocky smile and confident posture were gone now. Now he looked small, and actually afraid.

"Its…its Alaine. The Brujah Elder I finished off back in Chicago. He's-he's still inside me."

"What? Jeff, I know sometimes diablerists hear those they've consumed, but that only lasts a couple of nights. Its been four months, you can't still be hearing his screams"

"Not just his screams. I think.." Jeff swallowed "I think he's trying to take me over. I hear his voice telling me to do things, trying to command me. Its hard to fight it. He tries to get me into fights, though whether its because he liked fighting or because he wants me to get killed I don't know. Listen Janus. I'll reign it in, but PLEASE don't tell the others!" The man was actually pleading.

"Okay, okay, okay man. I won't say anything, but you gotta keep it together. And talk to Simon, he's pack priest and Malkavian and probably knows a lot about this kind of thing."

"What, diablerie?"

"No, voices in your head"

"Haha. Glad my misfortune could be such a joke. Which reminds me, its time for me to repay you for your experiment in plastic surgery…"

One savage beating later, the two Kindred headed back to the truck. Jeff looked like his old self, Janus having undone his fleshcraft. Janus was a wreck. He had three cracked ribs, his nose was broken, his eyes were blackened, and he had a compound fracture in his left leg. Veronique just sniffed when she saw this. "When will you be ready to restore MY face, Janus?" The Tzimisce just groaned.

Two nights later they were on their way to Powtanville. The weapons and ammo were stored in the truck, along with their bikes, as the vampires had decided that the big rig would be easier. Besides, the cargo was essential and none of them were comfortable leaving the ghouls responsible for it. After all, they were only human.

Before the night was out, they were in Powtanville. They called Tariq, on his cell phone and were told the location of their new Haven, a slaughterhouse on 53rd street. While technically still in use, the abattoir was experiencing hard times, and had drastically cut its hours and manpower, so that it was only in use a few hours a night (the day shift having been eliminated). Basically, they had to be out between midnight and four AM. Tariq stressed that, as per Janus' specifications, it did in fact posses a fair view of the city. More than that, it had a ready supply of cattle blood. None of the Magnificent Seven liked to drink the blood of animals; it just didn't SATISFY the way human blood did. But they acknowledged that a night might come when one (or more) of them was badly injured, and unable to hunt, and the cows blood might mean the difference between unlife and Final Death.

The moment they reached the slaughterhouse, Simon came rushing out. "Boss-man!" he exclaimed in tones of great happiness. Turning to Jeff he cried out, in that same tone "Blondie!". To Veronique he exclaimed, in that same happy tone, "Bitch!"

"Shut up, lunatic, and help the others unload the truck, I am in no mood for your stupidity"

"Later. Right now, we have to do a Vaulderie."

"Simon" Janus said, trying to be diplomatic here "We can always do one later. Right now, "

"Right now we do a Vaulderie. Janus, I don't know if you realize it but its been 2 weeks since we last had one. The Vinculum bonds are starting to slip, and we're growing further apart as a pack. We have to do it now, when we have free time, because Caine only knows when we'll have time for another. We need to go into this thing strong, and UNITED in our strenght. That means Vaulderie."

Janus slowly nodded. Simon was right, the Vaulderie would increase the packs unity and therefore their chances of success and/or survival. So he summoned the rest of the pack and told Simon to prepare for the rite, the most sacred in all Sabbat ritualism.

In truth, Simon needed little prompting. He loved the heavy ritual, which was the cornerstone of Sabbat life. In a way, he felt that it brought him closer to Caine. Since he was a ardent follower of the Path of Caine, and had dedicated his Unlife to being as much like the Father of All Vampires as possible, this meant a great deal to him.

With reverence he removed a silver goblet from the sidecar he traveled in. This was the Magnificent Seven's Vaulderie grail, it had been taken from a museum one hundred and thirty years ago, the founding act of the pack. It was the heart of the pack. With it they were the Magnificent Seven, the baddest and closest pack in the southern United States. Without it they were nothing but a bunch of individual vampires travelling together, no different from one of the pathetic coteries of Camarilla vampires. If the grail ever broke, or was stolen, it would be the end of the Seven.

The pack assembled in a loose oval around Simon. At the 'head' was Janus, to his left was Jeff, then Veronique, then Jessy, then Tariq, then Bubba, then Janus again. Simon lifted the grail, and began.

"I consecrate this vessel to the blood of my brothers, purified by the mark of Caine" Simon intoned, and handed the chalice to Janus, along with an ornate knife.

Janus took the chalice in his left hand and the blade in his right and said "I give this blood unto my brothers, that they might be freed by me". With that he cut himself with the knife and bled into the chalice. HE then handed the knife and chalice to Jeff who repeated the rite and passed them to Veronique, and so on down the line.

Eventually, the items returned to Simon, the chalice now filled with the mixed vitae of the Magnificent Seven. He placed the knife in his belt and handed the chalice to Janus. Janus accepted it, and intoned "I take back this blood from my brothers, so that I may break the bonds of the Antediluvians, and follow with them in the footsteps of Caine", before drinking. He passed it to Jeff, and again it made the circuit, finally ending in Simons hands.

Now the pack priest began what was a ritual for the pack. All priests occasionally made speeches, the 'sermons of Caine', but the priests of the Seven did it after every Vaulderie. Simon paused, and the pack was silent. Simon rarely prepared his speeches beforehand, counting on Caine to inspire him. Often this made for some truly horrible lectures, incoherent and dull. Sometimes, though, just sometimes, he came out with something inspiring.

He opened his eyes and began.

"Caine the first, was our father, His blood is ours, His gifts are ours, His wisdom is ours as well. His words have been brought through the millennia, lost, and found again. Listen, think, understand. It is said, in the Book of Nod: 'But the world grew dark with sin. Caine's Children wandered here and there, indulging their dark ways Caine felt anger when His children fought He discovered deceit when He saw them make word-war'. From this we see that Caine desires unity among his childer. The First City, Enoch, was torn apart by the scheming of the Antediluvians and their broods, ending the Golden Age of Cainite existence. The greed of the Antedeluvians destroyed Caine's glorious dream.

Even in these modern nights, we see that the same holds true. The Antedeluvians and their puppets in the Camarilla still battle one another, fighting like animals to gain power. We do not tread this road"

Simons voice had until now been calm and reasonably quiet. Now, though, the Cainist priests voice became that of a true fanatic.

"We are Sabbat, the Fists of Caine! We will restore our kind to the purity and unity of which Our Father dreamed! We deny His treacherous grandchilder and their tools. Here, in Powtanville, in the sight of Our Father, we shall demonstrate to him that not all of His childer have forgotten His dream.

My words are finished. May they guide you well."

The ritual concluded, the Seven split apart, each seeking a private place to contemplate their bonds to their packmates. The exceptions were Tariq and Jessy, who stayed together to renew their Blood Bond (broken by the mingled blood of the pack). Each Vaulderie produced emotional bonds between packmates, but the effect was different each time. One Vaulderie might produce a near-Blood Bond to a packmate, while the next would reduce that to mere passing affection. Thus, private time to adjust was essential. Not much would get done tonight, but that didn't matter. The Seven were as ready as they would ever be. Tommorow, the operation would begin.

Authors Notes:

The quote in Simons sermon comes from the Book of Nod, a copy of which I found online.

The procedure and rites of the Vaulderie comes from the Style guide to the Sabbat.


	5. chapter 5

The first step in palnning a campaign is to review your intelligence. This is true in all times, inall places, for all warriors, be they human or otherwise. The Magnificent Seven were no different. A planning meeting was scheduled for four days after their Vaulderie, and the pack was at more or less peak efficiency. The period of readjustment was over, but the vinculum had yet to weaken.

Jessy had had time to organize her data, while Bubba and Jeff had inventoried the weapons, blood supplies and other essentials. Simon, Tariq, and Janus had set about exploring the city. Simon blended nicely with the homeless, and except for an unfortunate incident when he became convinced a beggar was a Camarilla agent, he suceeded in remaining incognito. Thus, he had charted the secret network of alleyways and backdoors that the destitute of any city use to travel.Tariq had used Quietus to explore the rooftops, relying on his speed and agility to carry him undetected from building to building. Janus had simply walked the streets, periodically altering his face to avoid detection. Between them, they covered a lot of ground. Simone had made contact with the elite of the city, industrial magnates and executives mostly.

On the night of the meeting each of the even arrived with a few sheets of notes. Many packs relied on the leader to make plans while everyone else just followed orders. But the Seven recognized that no one vampire could know everything, and so each was a specialist, with data and ideas to contribute. The final plan would be Janus', but the entire pack would have played a part in its creation. This made each member feel better about their role in it; it was THEIR plan.

At the end of four days, the pack met around a large table stolen for just this purpose. There was a high degree of formality attached to such meetings, rare in the usually informal pack. Seating arrangements reflected the nature of the individuals contribution to the meeting and their place in the pack, as was the order of speaking. As leader, Janus sat at the head of the table, so that he could hear all his packmates and be heard by them. He would speak last, and definitively.

To his immediate right was Jessy, who served as Head of Intelligence. Her report was deep and business-like. "The Camarilla agents in the city number about ten. Three are Brujah and former Anarchs, and presumably are acting as muscle. Scarface, aka Louis Delareya, survivor of the Camarilla takeover of San Francisco. Bad Betty, aka Michelle Jones, a neonate but a Green Beret before the Embrace. As for the third" Jessy looked uncomfortable "I don't know"

"You don't KNOW?" Veroniqiue interrupted, managing to sound both annoyed and smug at once

"No, I don't. Theres absolutely NOTHING about this guy any where. No name, no photos, nothing. All we know is that someone fitting his description was vital in the Camarilla's victory over the Settites in Reno. Apparently, this person accounted for better than a dozen Snakes in ONE BATTLE! Its said the new Prince, the Malk Carmen, owes this guy big. Yet beyond hiis rep theres nothing. "

"Interesting" Janus murmured "but go on. The other seven Camarilla?"

"Two are Tremere, I don't have their names yet but that's just a matter of time.One Nosferatu, name of Wheeze, supposedly a first rate snoop, so lets assume the Camarilla know as much about us as we do about them. A Toreador, Jean De Laforge, famous for his skills as an assassin. Two Ravnos, twin brothers named Pyotr and Petrov. And the head Ventrue Peter Swift. More of a boardroom type than a back street brawler. Sharp as a razor and as cunning as they come."

Jeff nodded. "Sounds like a rougher bunch than I figured. Still, nothing we can't handle easily. What about the wolves?"

"I don't know as much about the wolves; you know the rats don't like to spy on 'em for some reason. Still I did get something. These four fleabags're running with a bunch of skinheads, and go by the names Spike, Hans, Jaeger, and Tommy. Been driving their gang hard to start a war with the local homeboys, the Dancerz, though I can't think why. Torched a soup kitchen the other week. Rough bunch, but haven't done the crinos thing yet."

Janus nodded. "any recommendations?"

"Yeah. Go after the Camarilla first. If we hit the wolves first, the Camarilla has that much longer to dig in for a long fight, or even attack us while we fight the wolves."

"Hmm." Janus hummed "Simon?"

The priest stood up. There really was no official descriptio of what he had to report: the closest one could come would be the city's psyche. Using Auspex, Simon examined the current of madness and emotion that the cities inhabitants collectively generated. In this way he could report on the psychological mindset of the 'average' Powtanviller.

"Not good boss-man. Not good. The Kine're nervous, there's an…edgy vibe to this place. Mortals know somethings up, but they don't know what. But I gotta tell you, I'm positive I'm being followed by dogs.. Whereever I went, one was always nearby. Never the same one, though, and all different breeds, but they're always there watching me. "

Tariq laughed. Of all the Seven he and Veronique respected Simon the least albeit for different reasons. "Dogs? Oh, little mad man, come now! What do you fear, hmm? A canine conspiracy? Ridiculous!"

Simon turned on the Arab "And what the fuck is Animalism for if not to tail people through beasties? What your sickening sweetie does with rats one of the camarilla might be doing with dogs. Plus, we know some Lupines talk with wolves, right? Why not dogs too? Mages got spells that let em do damn near anything, could be one of thems doing it, figuring he don't need vampires in his town. Any o' that sound 'ridiculous' to YOU sand rat!"

Bubba intervened "Yeah but Simon, if it IS true, wouldn't they have struck by now?"

"Not necessarily. Coud be they're doing recon. Also, I been offing em every chance I get."

No one in the group wanted to push Simon further, though none believed his theory for a minute. But if he felt safer killing some strays every so often, they'd let him.

"Any suggestion, Simon?" Janus asked, already knowing the answer.

"Find Caine. Now. With His help we can't fail against either the Lupines or the Camarilla."

"Always assuming" Jeff said, fingering his machete as he spoke, "that Caine chooses to help us"

Simon was quiet for a long moment. When he spoke again his voice was quiet, dangerous. "What, exactly, are you saying Jeff? We are Sabbat, we are following in Caine's footsteps. Do you doubt that he would help someone who just wanted to be what He wished His childer to be? Or is it the underying purpose of our Sect you're questioning?"

Jeff replied, quikly "Nothing like that, Simon. All I'm saying is, Caine might have other things on his mind is all"

"Yeah, maybe…" Simon seemed less sure of himself. After all the Father might indeed have greater worries than their problems.

"Yes, well, moving along… Veronique, have you established contacts among the Kine?"

"Yes, some. The police commissioner, the deputy mayor, the director of the hospital, and a local judge. They should be of some help" As always Veroniques report was professionalism itself. She had done her job, and was etting them know it.

"Very good. Do you have any thoughts on our next move?"

"Yes. Use the kine to target the upines. As skinheads we can easily influence the police to go after them, as part of a crackdown on extremist groups. Such a move is politically sound and so would likely be readily accepted. Then go after the Camarilla"

Tariq?"

Tariq produced a map of the city and began to lecture them on its general layout. He placed particular emphasis on likely hangouts of their enemies. Tariq believed that the Lupines would be easy to find. Powtanville had a large park at its center, containing a good sized forest. Given the Lupine preferance for wild areas, he was almost positive they would make their home in or near the park. The Camarilla was less likely to lair together, being suspicious of one another in ways Sabbat never were. His conjectures were these:

The Brujah would most likely be staying in the slums. This would keep them away from the upper and middle classes most Brujah at least affected to despise, and allow them a relatively safe place should the Brujah tendency to frenzy erupt. The Ravnos would likely be in a similar area, to allow them oppurtunity to practice whatever crimes they happened to prefer.

The Ventrue and Toreador would likely be found in the Heights, Powtanvilles most affluent neighbourhood.

The Tremere were harder to predict since their clan had no Chantry nearby. Thus it was anyones guess where they were. Tariq suspected, however, that they would choose an academic sort of lair. Powtanville had five libraries, two community colleges, a large number of museums and historical societies, and more book stores than could be counted. The field of 'academic sorts of lairs' was fairly open.

The Nosferatu would of course be in either the sewers or the dump. Since he was no real threat, the pack consensus (barring Veroniques disagreement) was to let him stay there.

"Thank you Tariq. Do YOU have any suggestions?

"Yes. The Lupines are far more dangerous to us, as they can and will hunt us during the day. If they hear of an assault on the Camarilla, they will come after us."

Janus nodded. This was true, and sparked the beginnings of a plan in his mind. He moved on "Jeff?"

"Our supply situation is good Janus. We have exactly six hundred rounds of normal bullets, varying calibres. We have 100 silver-nitrate tipped bullets, 200 phosphorous tipped and 200 exploding bullets. We have our regular weapons, plus everything we bought or looted from our late Russian friend. We have 40 litres of human blood, and 200 litres of cow blood. We have enough gas to refuel our bikes five times over. The ghouls have three days worth of food stockpiled, plus cattle-feed for your warghouls. You have plenty of Rostov soil, so I guess we're as well supplied as possible. I WOULD have liked a few more heavy weapons, but needs must when the devil drives"

"Excellent. Fine work Jeff and you too Bubba. Now we will hear from the ghouls as to how the search for Caine is going"

One of the ghouls stepped forward. Janus couldn't quite remember the man's name, though he thought it started with an 'S'. This was no great problem, as he rarely bothered to learn the names of his servants, anymore than a bank owner knows the names of his guard dogs.

Slowly, and with no small amount of fear, the man stood up. Sylvester Tailor was not ordinarily a nervous man; he had served his country in the Gulf War wars and spent three years as a the USA's premier counter-terrorist unit Delta Force. He had looked death in the face more times than he could count and never once had he flinched. But tonight, standing in front of bloodthirsty vampires he both loved and hated, Sylvester was scared shitless.

It was odd to be a ghoul under normal circumstances. On the one hand, you were stronger, faster and aged slower. On the other, you were a slave to inhuman monsters who drank blood to survive. Sylvester hoped dearly that their was no god, becaue he could not justify his selfishness, not even to himself. HE wanted power, and the vampires gave it to him. At least he hadn't been ghouled by just any pack. On balance, he knew he was fortunate to be ghouled to the Magnificent Seven. His masters were reasonbly good to him and his fellow ghouls, and unlike most Sabbat would never kill them for sport. But if they felt he had failed them the consequences would be severe.

"well, lords, we have not found…" he faltered here. Clearly his masters regarded this Caine with a reverance that bordered on worship, so he was usure of whether it was permitted for a mere ghoul to speak the name "..the one you seek. We have however narrowed the area of search, and determined that someone or something greatly resembling him is in Powtanville"

Janus gestured impatiently for the man to continue. The masters were varied

Masters Bubba and Tariq were the best, as they knew the ghouls by name, and would care for one if (s)he were injured. The woman Veronique was the worst; she had tortured one rebellious ghoul to death with her shadow powers. Janus was about average as far as his masters went, in Sylvesters opinion, neither good nor truly cruel. So Sylvester wasn't much frightened by his impatience. Still he went on faster than before

"A man, standing approximately six feet tall, with distinctly Semitic features and black hair, was seen doing unnatural things in Powtanville. He was seen flying through the aiccassions.r on Main street, he killed three street thugs with a glance in the Industrial Area (known locally as the Downs) and apparently vanished into thin air in the Heights. All these areas revolve around the park, and he has been spotted there on several occassions."

"So" Simon interrupted "He's in the Park? Great! Let's go there now, and…"

"Please excuse me, master Simon, but I'm afraid its not that simple. You see he has also been seen entering the slum area. More than that, those who follow him there have simply vanished. Powtanville is proud of its status as a low-crime city so the police should be making a huge fuss over this. The fact that they have largely ignored it is suspicious. Thus it is just as possible that he is in the slums. We cannot be certain."

"Thank you ghoul. You have done as well as can be expected from mere humans" Janus said "I wil see to it you all receive an extra ration of vitae"

"Thank you master" with that Sylvester backed out of the room.

"Brothers and sisters" Janus began, ready now to announce his plan "I thank you all for your contributions. I will now lay out our plans. Feel free to ask questions or make suggestions once I am through.

First we will attack the Lupines. However this will not be a normal assault. First, we will not attempt to kill any of them, only to hurt and enrage them. Second we will plant evidence that the Camarilla vampires were responsible. For this raid, the assailants will be Fleshcrafted into the likenesses of Camarilla. Bubba, Jeff, Veronique and myself will attack in two nights. Details of the assault can be worked out later. Once the Lupines realize that the 'Camarilla' behind the attack is still in town, they will launch an assault on our enemies. Whoever wins, we need only face that one foe.

Tariq, there is one Camarilla agent who must be taken care of before the assault can begin. The Toreador assassin is too dangerous to be left to the lupines. He could pick us off one by one, as you have done to our enemies. So, tommorow night, you will deal with him.

Simon, Jessy you will personally lead the search for Caine. You may decide on the means but find him you must. This is too great a chance to let it slip through our fingers" A smile appeared on the malkavians normally suspicious features. This was EXACTLY what he'd been saying for days now. "If you find him you will do two things. First, establish contact. Tell him who you are and who WE are. Second, ask Him what he wants from His Childer. Third, see if you can enlist His aid. Only the first is a necessity, if you can manage the others, great, but don't kill yourselves again to do so."

There were no suggestions or questions of consequence. The Seven broke up their meeting and began to implement the plan.

End Chapter 5

NEXT: Tariq's view of an ASSASSINS DUEL!


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Notes: This Chapter will be in the POV of Tariq Al'Akim. As such the tone will be more educated and wordy, since he learned English from an old-timey English gentleman. Also, my knowledge of the muslim world-view is imperfect, so f I get something wrong please excuse me.

I own fuck-all.

Let none say that I am a cold man. Let none say that I am a heartless monster. I, like my beloved Jessy Quinn, embrace the Path of Harmony. I do not believe that Allah allows the Kindred to exist so that we may be as demons. Rather we are as wolves; neither good nor evil but simply predatory. I do not enjoy torture (either receiving it or dealing it out). However, I love a good assassination.

It is not about the death. The killing itself is simply the goal, it is no more the point of the business than a knockout is the point of a boxing match (do not tell me otherwise; I have heard Bubba complain long and vociferously about what he called 'one punch fights'). The game of assassination is a good deal like hunting, and is very exciting. The stalking, the chase, occasionally the struggle. As I have already said, it is very exciting. Yet what I embark on now is going to be far better, I can feel it in every fiber of my being. To hunt Kine is good, to hunt kindred is better. But to hunt a Kindred who is actively hunting YOU? An assassin whose reputation is apparently a rival for your own? This will be the hunt of a lifetime, and I intend to savor every moment of it.

Naturally I cannot reveal to any of my packmates the full extent of my excitement. They would not understand. Such passions are intensely disturbing, even among the Sabbat, and only another Assamite truly understands it. I recall with great fondness the last time I was able to sit and discuss such matters with another of my clan; to 'talk shop' as Jessy would put it. We spent that whole night siting at a table, drinking Packed Red Cells (the usual manner used in storing blood is simply to store the red blood cells- it lasts longer), and discussing the finer points of eliminating a target. I remember we spent three hours arguing over the best weapons to take with you. A heated debate to be sure, for each situation requires a different combination of arms. There are few decisions more vital.

That sounds strange to an outsider I know. Certainly Jessy does not understand why this is such a preoccupation tonight. "Tarry baby" she says, knowing that to hear her call me such names always embarasses me. Women should not be so forward. "what the hell is the deal tonight? Here I am, hot and rarin' to go, and you'd rather focus on which knife to take with you tommorow night!". This is an accurate description of my mental state, but not feeling particularly suicidal, I decide against saying so.

"My darling" I reply, hoping to avoid a major argument "the weapons I select now may spell the difference between life and final death for me tommorow night. The Toreador is supposedly quite good, and I cannot afford to let any potential advantage slip. Please, dark light of my soul, allow me to work in peace"

For a wonder, Jessy lets it go "Fine Tarry. I understand. "

I should not press my good fortune. Normally Jessy is not willing to take no for an answer. I suspect it has something to do with her clan. As a nosferatu, Jessy's appearance is hideous. Consequently she needs a good deal of reassurance that I am not totally repulsed by her. Perhaps this change of attitude is a sign that she is finally coming to accept that my love for her is based on far more than mere lust. Still, her immediate submission is worrying "You do?"

"Yep. You need to keep that luscious bod in one piece. Cool. But I'm going to help you by making sure you're good and satisfied in time for tommorow night. I figure some bedroom gymnastics will help loosen you up and make sure you're mind doesn't wander during the fight. So hurry this up, Jessy needs her lovin'."

When I was in Japan hunting Kuei-Jin, I read some of their Mangas to familiarize myself with local Kine culture. In these books, characters would 'sweat-drop' in some situations. Had I been able to do so, I too would have sweat-dropped just now.

Jessy walks out of the room, swaying her wasted hips in a way I have long found indescribably arousing. With great effort, I return my attention to the weapons. After much deliberation, I settle on a glock pistol, my short swords, two throwing knives and a tazer. Now, to show Jessy that I do in fact find her attractive…

THE NEX T EVENING

Last nigt was beyond description. That is all I will say on the matter.

Some people question why I love Jessy so. The answer is she is not only as sweet and charming a Kindred as I have ever met, but her fire and paassion are as great as they were when she was still alive. Among the cold-hearted Cainites, this is a true rarity, to be treasured above vitae or power. I cannot help but recall the words of Kayin (called Caine by the Westerners). He wrote "Love is the sweet rain which falls down from Allah. Love is the gift of life". This is nothing but the truth; since I met Jessy, I have felt more alive than I did in Istanbul before I was Embraced. My heart seems to beat again, and my body seems to pulse with life again. For her part she say I make her feel beautiful again. Odd. Only in each others company are we able to forget those things we hate most about ourselves.

Before I set out on my hunt I perform my prayers. AS I have said, I believe Allah has a purpose in mind even for vampires. As such, I do not believe myself to be intrinsically damned, and thus I remain a muslim. I turn towards Mecca and begin. "Ah la il allah, Mohammed razul Allah…". This is important to me, for not only does it soothe my sipirit to know I am "right with God" as Bubba says, it preserves continuity with my mortal life. I pray to Allah for strength and courage, and for the skill to follow the path of Haqim to redemption.

I finish my prayers and contemplate my sacred duty. Few understand the Path of Blood, the Path of the Assamite. It is this : Kayin was the first of us, the only pure vampire in the history of the world, for his blood was purely vampiric. He was offered redemption, an offer he refused. Lesser generations of vampires were created in sin, for Allah had forbidden Kayin the right of Progeny, so we are tainted with sin. But if a Cainite can raise himself to the purity of Kayin (or close to it), he can remove this taint, and be offered salvation, in the form of Golconda. Thus, even diablerie is to the glory of Allah.

Tonight I will have a chance to pursue this glory. For my quarry, Jean DelaForge, is 7th generation, while I am 9th. His sire was a contemporary of Rafael, the Toreador who originated the Masquerade, and chose Delaforge for his beauty. The fact that his childer was an extremely adept assassin was, apparently, merely happy coincidence. Bizarre how the Cainites outside my clan choose their childer, but it is really no business of mine.

My business is the hunt.

My current situation is probably the hardest to plan. The 'average' scenario (there is nor such, not really. Each is totally unique) can be planned out fairly simply. The target is followed, his habits are studied, and eventually the hit is planned for when the target is habitually off-guard. But how does one plan the death of a professional killer? One who, it must be assumed, knows all the same tricks as you do, and probably a few more. I decide the best way is to act as bait, to let my prey hunt me, and then turn the tables when the time is right.. A dangerous ploy, I know. Far too easy to be trapped or defeated, but I have little alternative.

I go out onto the roof of the building. Powtanville is a fair-sized city, for which I a m grateful. This is because it affords a large number of high buildings from which to 'roof-hop'. I use Potence (learned secretly from Bubba; I am still unused to it so I have yet to inform the others) to make the jumps, clearing ten to twelve foot gaps with ease. Most enjoyable, I wonder why Bubba does not do this himself.

My senses are trained to their utmost efficiency as I landon the roof of the Addenval Public Library…and then a knife plants itself in my side.

I pull out the blade and whirl around. Standing casually at one corner of the roof is a strikingly handsome young man, holding another throwing knife in his hand, and wearing a rapier in a scabbard He is tall, six foot one would be my guess, and his features are so aristocratic as to make Jeff look like a dockworker. His blond hair is tastelfully mussed, just enough to imply wildness without implying carelessness. He wears a tight bodysuit. He smiles slightly, in what is not quite a sneer, and his blue eyes shine with delight.

"Tariq Al' Akim. The famed Assamite-turned-Sabbat. How I looked forward to meeting you! You know, I hve studied your work quite closely. Your assassination of the Hermetic Mage Darian Silvers was nothing less than art!" The surprising thing is, I do not get the impresion that the youth is anything less than totally sincere. "I mean, sprinkiing poison on his favorite flowers! SO simple, so ingenious"

I decide to talk in order to gain the time I need to heal myself. Besides, as I said, discussing business with a fellow assassin is a rare treat indeed. "I am flattered. I am impressed by your record as well monsieur DelaForge. Your work in Europe preceded you to North America. The assassination of the Giovanni primogen in Rome particularly intrigued me. I have never heard of anyone killing a Necromancer in Italy and leaving the country alive. Could you tell me how you managed the kill and the escape?"

DelaForge answers, not in the tone of one who is bragging nor of one currying favor. He sounds, instead, like what he is; a professional eager to share his experiences with a respected colleague. "The kill was fairly easy. I contracted men to find the Giovanni crypt. Then, over a few nights, I drilled a tiny hole into the ceiling just above the Primogens resting place, into which I placed a maginfiying glass. When dawn came, a tiny ray of sunlight was transformed into a beam powerful enough to incinerate my target. As for my esape, I subtly left clues that linked the Ravnos to the killing. Even now, the Giovanni are warring on the Gypsies, who likely have no idea what is happening." 

A good plan. Cold-blooded, but operationally sound, and with plenty of room for improvisation. My estimation for my opponent increases. This will not be easy. I've healed myself enough. It is time to act while he is still off balance.I nod, and bolt left, using Celerity to enhance my speed.

The Toreador are msot famous for their love of and skill with art. They are seen as artistic social butterflies, excellent at social maneuvering but of little value in direct combat. What most forget is that the Toreador are among the greatest masters of Celerity, and can use this skill to deadly effect. This is immediately demonstrated in the way that Delaforge rushes past me, and slashes at my chest in a move _far_ too fast to see. Fortunately, his knives lack the weight to cause severe damage, but the pain reminds me not to underestimate his prowess.

I leap away and throw my knives. He dodges both and leaps after me, swinging the rapier in a tight arc which I can barely parry. Allah, he's so _fast_!

I riposte with my short swords, swinging both at once. One comes from the left and is aimed at his neck, the other carcs towards his midriff from the right. This move is excellent against opponents wielding only one weapon. Usually, the target can only block one blow, and is killed or crippled by the other. Delaforge however, ducks his head and blocks the right hand blade, stopping my attacks but putting himself off balance. I ready myself to strike but find that I cannot bring myself to hit him. I realize he's using Presence. BRILLIANT! I would not have thought that the so-called social discpline could be so effective in battle.

I spring back, and quickly consider my options. I cannot use the tazer, as I cannot strike him. The Glock might work, but he is too fast for me to be sure of hitting him. Inspiration strikes.

I use the Quietus abilities Baals Caress and Taste of Death. Baals caress changes my blood into a potent acid (Bubba, in a rare display of insight, compared it to the acid blood in _Alien_), while Taste of Death allows me to spit my blood. The acidic vitae strikes Delaforge directly in his right eye. To his credit, although the attack stops him in his tracks, he does not scream nor panic. This does not help him. His concentration lapses, and his Presence fades.

I attack, knocking him down and stabbing through his heart with my blade. As he enters torpor, I say:

"Monsieur Delaforge, you have been, without question the greatest opponent of my unlife. Thus I am prepared to offer you a choice. Surrender yourself to me, join the Sabbat. We will keep you a prisoner, but only until we break your Blood Bonds and are certain you are truly with us. We will present you to the Cardinal, and ask him to place you in a war-pack, where you can use your talents to save all the Kindred. Refuse, and I will consume you, and send your spirit into the next life with honor. Choose"

In a voice so weak that it can barely be heard, Delagorge says "I cannot. My life is yours, for you won it by besting me. You must choose for me" and he lapses into torpor.

I consider for a moment, before picking him up and heading back to the lair. He is too valuable to waste, and the war against the antedeluvians will require skill such as his. Janus will understand.

End Chapter

I know this is not the canon understanding of the path of blood. But I think that, just as two members of the same religion will see it in radically diferent ways, so there is no 1 understanding of a Path of Enlightenment. This one happens to be tinged with Muslim belief. Mind you, I may not understand Muslim belies perfectly and if so, I'm sorry

Also, if the fight seems short remember that battles that last five minutes make legends that live forever.


	7. Interlude

INTERLUDE

It is a little known fact among the Kindred that ghouls have created a unique social structure entirely for themselves.

No one can really say when it began, since no one knows when the first human was ever exposed to Kindred vitae. Some say it began when Caine gave of his blood to a favored retainer, creating the first ghoul. Caine soon saw how useful such a strong, capable, and above all devoted servant would be, so he made more, and allowed his childer to make more, and the ghouls began to interact with one another. However it began, it exists. It exists because ghouls have a great deal of difficulty living in the human world. Some feel a huge burden of guilt, knowing as they do that they serve monstrous masters who feed on human blood. This especially weighs on those ghouls whose masters make them bring them prey or dispose of bodies. Others, notably the retainer-families of the Tzimisce, feel that the ghoul is a creature apart from the human. If the vampire is a higher being, goes the reasoning, the ghoul must be too. Not much higher, but higher. These feelings were heightened in the Dark Ages, and led to several churches which preached ghouldom as a state closer to the Divine than mere humanity. Others feel that they have fallen from grace by making deals with monsters. They say that in drinking vampire blood to gain power, the ghoul effectively sells his soul. The Ghouls of the Magnificent Seven followed this last school of thought.

For whatever reason, ghouls generally prefer their own company. However, humans (and all their supernatural variants) are social creatures, and when they gather together, they inevitably create a group with its own rules, standards and hierarchy. The Ghoul society is based on a fluid hierarchy. It is unique in that what YOU do has little effect on your status; it is what your Domitor (Vampiric Master) does that determines your rank. This works well in Camarilla society, since all vampires have a clearly defined station, and ghouls have but one Domitor. However, many Sabbat packs have communal 'ownership' of ghouls, so status is determined by seniority. Any rank or precedence assigned by the Domitor is ignored once the orders have been carried out. In purely social circumstances, the oldest ghoul rules.

Ghoul society has no grand salons. Ghouls are essentially beasts of labor, and have little time to themselves. Generally, they congregate in bars which are generally closed to the 'Uninitiated'. In most cases, if you are eligible to enter the club, you already know where it is, or at least how to find it. Some low-status Kindred make a business out of providing 'supervision' to such gatherings, making sure that nothing gets too public or too out of hand. Ghoul society has produced no poets, no artists, and no innovators. Like their undead masters, ghouls have only a limited ability to create, and prefer to save those energies for their masters needs. One last curious feature of the ghoul world, is its scheduling. Between ghouls of different Domitors, all arrangements, all appointments, all alliances are purely temporary. If the Domitor tells his or her ghoul not to associate with the thralls of a rival, the ghoul will obey, and no one can take open offence at any inconvenience this may cause. After all, orders are orders.

Today the ghouls of the Magnificent Seven HAD no orders, aside from the usual not-to-onerous guard duty, and so they engaged in traditional ghoul past-time: trying to understand their masters. Ghouls are told virtually nothing about the world their masters move through. This is felt to be in the ghouls best interest, to prevent mental anguish and psychological damage. After all, the thinking goes, no need to burden them with things they couldn't possibly understand. However, as in most master-slave relationships, the masters come to view the slaves as objects, and don't bother about what the slave listens in on. Most ghoul gatherings consisted largely of sharing information, comparing notes, and swapping theories. There is one other topic that often comes up, but it is not a pleasant one.

Their masters had been very excited about the captive brought back by Master Tariq, and had argued right up to sunrise. Master Simon and Mistress Veronique had favored killing the prisoner, Masters Tariq and Jeff favored interrogation, while Master Bubba and Mistress Jessy advocated converting him. But as always, it would be Master Janus who decided. He simply had not decided yet.

The ghouls were eating breakfast. There were six (1) of them, and so they ate at a long table found in the slaughterhouse's old cafeteria. As usual Jasper Vines (age 49, ex-USMC, Purple Heart) was cooking, and hearing complaints on the coffee. All the ghouls marveled at how Jasper could cook anything else, yet still make coffee that tasted like industrial waste. The young-looking (since ghouls never appear to age), dark skinned man was used to it. That was not the same thing as liking it.

"Seriously, Jas, I could float a lid on this shit" griped a small Asian man. This was Sano Ichijo, formerly a captain in the Japanese Imperial Army. He was the most senior ghoul here, having tasted vitae over half a century ago in what is now Indonesia. He had been ghouled to Janus' sire, who had taught him English, but was now a 'pack ghoul'. "In my army, men committed seppuku if they produced anything THIS foul"

"Well" Jasper replied "I remember the one time you cooked dinner. We had to call the fire department, and lost most of the kitchen, not to mention pissing off the bosses. Don't recall you offering to commit sabookoo then."

"Why do you always bring that up?" This was from a red-haired , green eyed woman named Kristie Valence-formerly of the CIA's Black Ops team- who'd been ghouled a mere six years ago. Jessy had felt that a ghoul assistant would be useful, and gave Kristie those jobs she didn't have time to do herself. "I mean it was, what, a decade ago? Move ON!"

"We can't" replied Sylvester Tailor "You see, Sano's fire displeased the bosses SO much that they let Mistress Veronique kill a young associate of ours named Vince Del'Regia. Tortured him to death because he called the fire department and let outsiders into the lair."

"Yeah" countered was Daniel Kranz (ex-Green Beret, and proud bearer of the Congressional Medal of Honor) "and Sano didn't try to commit seppuku only because he had knocked himself unconscious when the fire started. Smashed his head against the wall when he jumped back. He DID try it later though"

The conversation had taken a decidedly unpleasant turn, and the mood was gloomy. So, Thomas McCrae (fomerly of the LAPD, and 26 years old)decided to lighten things up "So…who likes pie?"

The comment was sufficiently strange to get a small laugh, and the tension drained a bit. "okay Tom, point taken. We'll change the subject." Sano said, a laugh in his voice "what do we think they will do with the captive? I think they will kill him. He surrendered, so…"

"…he has no honor." Finished Sylvester "C'mon Sano, you know that isn't what Westerners believe. I think they'll try to convert him. Their Sabbat is some kinda religious army isn't it? If he's willing to convert, they've pretty much gotta let him"

"Besides" Jasper said as he set upt the grill to make breakfast "that attitude got your country into a whole lot of trouble as I recall. War crimes and such."

San scowled. He had been a true believer in the stated mission of the Japanese Greater Asian Co-Prosperity Sphere(2) and still tried to follow the ideals of Bushido. "A few abuses by garlic-eating barbarians(3) is no reason to abandon a code that stood firm for more than a thousand years"

"Yes. Well" Daniel said, trying to change the subject again "I doubt we are going to solve the East-West divide tonight. Now lets change to slightly more pressing matters. This is a very odd mission, isn't it? I mean, they usually tell us to do things like spy for them, or procure supplies. But this time we're being told to find this ONE man, this Caine. Why is that, I wonder?"

"I remember" Kristie said "back when we did that job in Dallas, I was talking to a ghoul belonging to the big vamps, and she said all the vamps think they're descended from the Cain(1) in the bible. Y'know, the one who offed his brother"

"Oh come on now!" Sylvester laughed "You can't believe that! Cain"

"Didn't say I believed it, said they did" Kristie said, a touch coolly.

"actually" Sano said a bit speculatively "that WOULD fit with what old Pyotr told me, back before he was killed. He said that vampirism was a curse that one of his ancestors had been placed under as punishment for some great misdeed"

"Yeah, well doesn't seem fair" said Jasper, as he scrambled a dozen eggs "Punishing them for what some guy did god alone knows how long ago"

"Why not?" Daniel said "they're blood sucking demons who're all going to hell. Let em suffer I say"

Sylvester glared at him "And what does that make us, Daniel?"

"Huh?"

"You know not all of them chose to become what they are. Not one of us, anywhere, can say the same. We walked into this with our eyes open. Moreover, we know that a lot of the time they lose control to something inside them, and that's when they do the really bad things. We are always at least somewhat in control. So if they're all demons destined for the Bad Fire, aren't we something even worse?"

Conversation died at that point. The ghouls went about their guard duties in silence.

As has been said earlier there is a second frequently broached topic in ghoul society, one that no ghoul likes to discuss. That is: What happens to a ghoul's soul when he or she dies? Or as it is often phrased these days: 'when you get up in front of that judgement throne, when you see all the human beings you led to the slaughter, and when the Almighty asks what the fuck you were thinking, what the hell are you gonna say?'

And no one likes to think about that.

End Interlude

A/n Just a little look into an oft overlooked segment of the World of Darkness. Personally, I think ghouls are at once pitiful and contemptible.

I know I said there were more before, but I just didn't want to deal with any more than 6. So I had to change it. This is not pleasant for me, because I normally hate it when authors can't keep their own continuity straight.

The 'official' name for the Japanese Empire carved out between 1901 and 1945. Officially based on a racial hierarchy referred to as 'proper place'. The theory went: if everyone's in their proper place, everyone will be a lot happier and more prosperous. Three guesses where the Japanese put themselves and the first two don't count. Look it up people, it was at least as bloody as the Reich, yet for some reason it isn't really taught in schools.

(3) common Japanese epithet for Koreans. Been in use since the 15th century. 

(4)For some reason White Wolf spells it Caine while most versions of the bible spell it Cain. Go figure.


	8. Chapter 8

My name is Veronique DuMars, and I am a traitor.

I have always been a traitor, though I never wanted to be. I just want to go home.

I write this because soon it will all end, one way or another, and I want some record to exist of why I did what I did, why I am what I am, and why I will do what I have planned. This is for my packmates, who I was created to betray , yet have come to love more than I can say, though I will try. Later.

First I must speak of how I came to be what I am. I was Embraced forty years ago in New Orleans by a monster that kidnapped me from my bedroom. I became LaSombra that night. This much I have already told my packmates, yet much more remains. My sire was Lasombra, but _antitribu_, dedicated to bringing down the Sabbat and reestablishing the rigid control the clan had in the dark ages. It was he who made me join the Sabbat, a player in a long-term plot to destroy the sect. He told me that if ever I resisted, failed, or even gave less than perfect service, he would wipe out every member of my family before my eyes, before consuming my blood and soul.

I was positioned to be recruited into one of the Sabbat's elite packs, it didn't matter much which one. The Magnificent Seven happened to be the ones who found me, atop a pile of dead Camarilla ghouls and neonates. They assumed me to be a great warrior, and one of their number took me under his wing. In time, when one of their number died, I became a full member of the Seven. When the old leader, Pyotr, died and left his childe command, my masters in the Camarilla were furious. Their plan called for me to lead the pack to a carefully organized series of triumphs, until finally I attained a high position within the sect. At that point, I would feed the Camarilla all the information it needed to bring down the Sabbat in North America, and eventually in Mexico. Denied its greatest holding, the Sabbat would soon degenerate into bands of roving Anarchs, of no real consequence. Only as Pack leader could I do this, so they ordered me to challenge Janus, and threatened to kill my niece, then only ten years old, should I fail.

I failed. They made good on their threat.

Since then I have fed them whatever information they have asked me for, and could not hesitate. Until now. Now the Camarilla demands that I help their Justicar, Peter Swift, organize a trap to destroy my pack. Apparently, there was something in Powtanville worth changing their grand scheme. But I find I cannot. Though I still care for my family, they are too distant now. I have not seen my sisters in decades, and they may well be dead. My nieces and nephews are now approaching middle age, yet I have never seen them.

The Sabbat has also become important to me. I have seen first hand the dangers the Elders pose and the trap they have laid for us all in the Camarilla. But my pack is the real reason for my forthcoming defiance. For my pack has become my family. I have tried to keep distant, to be nothing more than a coworker, but they have sucked me in. They are family. Janus is my father, Jeff is my strange and funny uncle. Tariq, Jessy and Bubba are my siblings.

Simon is my heart.

Yes, Lunatic, if you are reading this, I can finally tell you that I love you. I think. I love your fire, your devotion and genuine faith in our sect. I love your razor wit, though I hate the way you target me, as if you sense my treasonous nature. I love your wildness and unpredictability, though your madness frightens me. I pray that one day you will be able to forgive me, even if you never love me. I pray that this does not harm you too much, my Mad Love. That would have been my nickname for you, in a better world.

Why you may ask do I write this now? Because my packmates are playing into their enemies hands! The Justicar Swift expected them to hit the Lupines first, which is why he sent out DelaForge to 'hunt' Tariq. The Toreador did not know he was meant to be killed, so that his killer could be followed back to his lair. Then Swift would carefully lead the Lupines to the slaughterhouse, and they would destroy us all.

For my own life I fear not, for the Ventrue has assured me that the plan has merely been altered. I believe him, if only because he could have done it all without my knowledge.

So I must speak. The Toreador has agreed to join our Sect, and though for now his commitment is shaky, I believe the news that his Elders sent him out to die will strengthen it. So the Magnificent Seven will not be shorthanded after my execution, and may yet prevail. Swift won't act yet, it will take at least two nights for him to be ready. Then he will lead the wolves to your door, and later come in with his force to wipe out whoever survies. Personally, I would shore up our defenses, and contact the chief of the police, who I have blood bound to the pack- I used the blood from the Vaulderie so he is bound to all of us. All of you. Experience shows that the changers have a masquerade of their own. A 'routine stakeout' of our lair, 'a suspected cult meeting place', should deter them long enough for you to find a way to triumph. I believe in you all.

I go now to tell the others the truth, and pray that they are merciful enough to kill me quickly.

Before that however let me say my personal goodbyes:

Janus, you were the best leader I could ever hope for. You were better than I could ever be, and respect you more than anyone- bar one.

Jeff, I can see you labor under some great burden now. Do not worry; you have more inner strength than any one else, and the pack would be lost without your great good humor and ability. Recover quickly, Blue Blood, the others will need you soon.

Tariq, you are wise and brave. Jessy you are warm and knowledgeable. May you both know the eternal happiness you so richly deserve.

Bubba, you are like a little brother. There are times I treasure your company more than anyone else's, and other times in which I have to restrain myself from tearing your heart out. Of all Panders, I have met many who clamor loudly for respect, but you are the only one I know of to deserve it.

Simon, I love you. If you ever want to know how I really feel about you, simply think of all the insults I have used on you. Now think of their exact opposites. With one exception, that is how I feel (Sorry my love, but you ARE crazy). You have been the only thing that kept me from ending my unlife long ago. Were it not for you, I would leave a note explaining my treason and flee. But I value your opinion of me, and want you to at least be able to say that I died well. I doubt I should write this, but as I will never have a chance to say it, here it is in Enochian: Karta Rzulkii Traskkshh(1).

If you would, save my decapitated corpse, and burn me with Swift. A bit of poetic justice I think.

My name is Veronique DuMars and I am a traitor. But now I betray my enemies for my friends.

A/N

Bet no one saw that coming huh?

(1)The 'Enochian' means:' You have a great ass' in a language I just made up.


	9. Chapter 9

"Its always darkest before the dawn"

-anonymous

Janus put down Veronique's letter, and fought desperately to control the Beast. Now was NOT the time for a frenzy, however angry that bitch's revelation made him. Now was the time for cold rational thought. He needed to decide whether or not to inform the others about the traitor in their midst. Normally, of course, the pack would HAVE to be told, so that justice could be done. But now, with a strong Camarilla presence AND a pack of Lupines arrayed against them, the Magnificent Seven could not afford to divide their attention. In an ideal world, he would keep it quiet, and just arrange for the bitch to die a glorious death in battle.

Which was why he was most worried that the Lasombra had made two copies of her confession, one for him and the other for Simon. Her 'Mad Love'. Janus smirked slightly at that, thinking that under other circumstances he would have looked forward to ribbing the Malkavian about that nickname. He could just imagine the scene: him and Jeff repeating the phrase in high falsetto tones, while Simon cursed them out and Veronique blushed. Jesse and Bubba would be on the floor, laughing themselves silly, while Tariq sat in a corner and pretended to be above it all, until you looked at his eyes and realized he was laughing like a loon inside…

The Tzimisce warrior shook himself. Those carefree, innocent (well, for Sabbat vampires) times were gone for now, and might possibly be gone forever. _How can things be as they were when we've been betrayed from within? _A pack's strength came from the fact that all its members trusted one another. With Veronique revealed as a traitor, it was only a matter of time before his packmates- his FRIENDS- began to suspect one another. Before long the Magnificent Seven, a pack which had been a byword within the sect for strength and unity for almost two centuries, would fall apart in a storm of accusations and bloodshed

He looked across the makeshift desk at his Priest. Simon seemed unusually calm. All his typical twitching was stopped and he appeared normal. Janus knew what would happen next. Simon would explode with rage, possibly straight into the arms of a world-class Frenzy. He would demand a Wild Hunt against Veronique, and according to Sabbat traditions, Janus could not refuse. This was one area where the ductus HAD to obey the priest, or be branded a traitor himself.

But Simon did none of these things. Instead he leaned back and sighed deeply. Reaching up with one hand to rub his eyes, the priest said "Well, as Bubba might say shee-eyt. Just what we needed, huh boss? How the hell are we going to keep this from the others?"

Janus was surprised. The letter was a wet dream to a paranoid like Simon. Proof of a vast conspiracy against him, against the pack, involving someone close to him? He should be going nuts, calling for Lasombra blood at the top of his lungs. Instead he just seemed…sad and hurt, much as Janus felt. "Simon you're, uhm, you're…taking this very well"

Simon paused for a minute. His face expressed confusion at what his leader had said. The, understanding dawned. "Oh! You mean, because you think I'm… that is, because I'm", he stopped and sighed, a long sound of deep weariness. "Day for truth, huh boss? Get the bitch in here, I'll explain everything. Then we'll see what's what, ok?"

Deeply confused now, Janus did as Simon asked. He opened the door of the slaughterhouse foreman's office (which he had appropriated as his HQ) and said in a calm voice "Veronique, could you please come in here for a minute?"

As the Lasombra traitoress mounted the metal staircase, Janus prepared to restrain the Beast, so that he wouldn't rip her to shreds the second she entered the room. He was very surprised, therefore to find that neither he nor the Beast was enraged. Instead he just felt… empty and sad. To his amazement and horror, he felt tears of blood pooling in his eyes. He glanced at Simon, hoping against hope that the priest didn't see him in his moment of weakness. But Simon wasn't even looking at him, instead focusing his gaze on the door. His face was set in an emotionless mask. He was, however, holding a handkerchief out to his leader.

"Perfectly normal reaction, boss" Simon said without shifting his gaze "Anger at the betrayal turns to grief at the loss of trust and friendship. Textbook stuff; I saw it all the time in the Psych ward. No shame in what you're feeling."

Janus was unused to being comforted by the mad priest, and was uncomfortable with the emotional vulnerability of the moment, so he simply grunted and dabbed at his eyes with the proffered hankie. In guy-talk this meant 'thank you for your reassurance, but speak of this to no one'. Simon was a man, he'd understand.

Veronique eventually opened the office door. She entered silently, her eyes downcast. She very carefully avoided Simon, though whether she feared his insanity or his rejection Janus couldn't guess. She sat down at the near side of the large desk in the center of the room. Simon and Janus moved to the other side.

"Veronique DuMars you have lied to us" Simon said, his voice taking on a solemn tone. This was the tone of voice he used in all when he performed the various ritae of the Sabbat, when he spoke not as Simon the Malk but as the Voice Of Caine to the pack. "You have lied to your pack and your clan. Do you admit this?"

"I do" she said in a small timid voice "I betrayed you and our sect". For some reason he couldn't explain even to himself, this made Janus go back to being angry. He felt the Beast rise, and wasn't particularly inclined to fight it. But before he could act, Simon beat him to it.

The priest slammed his hands down on the desk and thrust his face forward, so that he was inches from hers. "DO NOT LIE TO ME AGAIN!" he roared, in a powerful voice more like that of an angry god than a scrawny lunatic. "YOU ARE NOT OF MY SECT YET!"

The room was very still for a moment. Janus felt his mind, normally the quickest of the entire pack, trying to shift gears without a clutch. The Lasombra seemed to be faring no better.

"W-what? Simon I AM Sabbat… and a traitor to the Sabbat" she stammered, now looking at Simon with a mixture of fear and bewilderment.

Simon visibly collected himself and spoke again, this time more quietly. "You really think that, don't you? Veronique you can't be Sabbat because YOU NEVER UNDERWENT THE CREATION RITES. Therefore, since you are not True Sabbat, you cannot be a traitor. How can one betray a sect one is not a part of?"

Janus was stunned. It was true. No matter who your sire was, or where you'd fought, the Sect didn't consider you True Sabbat until after you completed a Creation Rite determined by your sire. Still…

"But Simon, she still passed info to this… justicar… and has to be punished. Sabbat or no, she has to die the Final Death."

"Does she?" Simon asked his leader, a small smile on his face "Tell me Janus, since when to we hold uninitiated vampires to the laws of True Sabbat? Because as I remember it, its only if they refuse to join us that we kill them". Turning back to Veronique, he asked her "Do you wish, now, to join the Sabbat? To join us in our battle against the Ancients who would make slaves of us all? To fight for Caine Our Father in the Final Nights ahead? To pledge your unlife to our sacred cause? "

Veronique looked to Janus. For the first time since she had handed him her letter, Janus saw hope on her features, and felt the stirrings of hope in his own dead heart. He nodded.

"YES!" she cried, bloody tears of joy in her eyes "Yes yes oh yes!"

Simon laughed "Well I guess that's clear enough."

Veronique looked intensely relieved. Janus supposed that was natural enough in her situation. She'd come into this room expecting to meet her Final Death and instead had been redeemed by her 'mad love'. Janus snickered, though he covered it with his hand. _Oooohhh yeah, me and Jeff are going to have a LOT of fun with Simon the next couple of nights._ He was thrilled that his priest had come up with this perfect solution. Though there would lengthy explanations later, not much had changed (he hoped). Still one thing bothered him.

"Simon, you promised me an explanation for your… surprisingly normal behavior. I don't mean to look a gift horse in the mouth but…" he trailed off, unable to think of a non-confrontational way of saying 'why haven't you gone apeshit on us?'.

Simon looked like a kid caught stealing cookies. "Damn. I'd hoped you'd forgotten that. I suppose I owe you two an explanation. I imagine you both thought that I would be calling for Lasombra blood by this point, correct? After all what good paranoid schizophrenic wouldn't seize on this episode as proof of a vast shadowy conspiracy? Well, Veronique you aren't the only the only one with secrets.

See, I'm not actually a paranoid. REAL paranoids aren't 'sporadic' , as any Psych student could tell you. I've been putting on an act ever since I met you guys, and quite frankly I'm amazed its worked. Not just because of the holes in my performance; most people know squat about mental illness and assume that paranoiacs act the way I did, so it worked a lot better than an accurate portrayal would have. Heh, I actually tried acting like a real paranoiac and everyone thought I was hamming it up. So, I went with the half-assed paranoia, and noone's asked any inconvenient questions. But you guys were my pack, and keeping secrets from you has been murder. But my problem is just too humiliating."

Janus could only shake his head. He was saddened at his packmates lack of trust; while the Magnificent Seven might kid one another they never did so about truly sensitive topics –they were that great rarity; a pack of killers who genuinely liked one another. Virtually no one ever commented on Jesse's looks, or Bubba's lack of education; such things were simply off-limits to even the most boisterous banter (though Simon himself sometimes crossed the line, especially when he was pissed) and that was just understood. That Simon could doubt that made Janus question how well he really knew his packmates.

But Simon surprised him again. "I know you guys wouldn't rag on me about it; but just having you KNOW would be bad enough. See, I'm afraid of the dark."

Some of what Janus' (and presumably Veronique's) feelings must have shown on their faces, because the Malkavian became defensive. "I know I know. A vampire who's scared of the dark, how pathetic is that? Well let me clue you in, injuns (1): I died same as you. I came back same as you. But, see, I REMEMBER WHAT HAPPENED IN BETWEEN!"

Simon paused to let that sink in before continuing. "And what I remember most though is…teeth…claws…screaming…and darkness. Total darkness." He shivered. "That's why I act so jumpy all the time. Even the nights in the brightest city remind me of that Abyss I was in. Every shadow appears to be a gaping portal back to Hell. Its horrible, and sometimes I just want to scream. But even when I was a fresh Recruit (2), I knew enough to keep my damn mouth shut. One slip of the tongue and I'd be a bitch (3) forever. So I chose to be 'Simon the Paranoiac'; the jumpiness corroborated the story pretty good, and noone really cares too much. It was hellish but what else could I do? So, now you know my Big Dark Secret."

Janus was silent. To think that his packmate –his FRIEND- had been going through sheer Hell every night, and had never shown any sign. Janus tried desperately to think of something -anything- to say, but came up dry. Veronique had considerably better luck. She walked over and enfolded the priest in a wordless hug. Simon'' limbs went rigid at first, as his Beast initially balked at having another predator that close, but after a moment he awkwardly returned the hug.

Janus smirked, and left the room. For one thing, he wanted to give the 'lovebirds' time alone. For another he knew that Simon would want a vaulderie ASAP, ostensibly to prepare the pack for what might well be their last battle, but actually to welcome their 'new' member. That meant they'd blood after, and although sucking down cow blood had been good enough so far, they'd need the strength only human vitae gave. _Eh, we'll just drain one or two of the ghouls. Not like we need 'em all now anyway._

End chapter.

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Wow. Bet you guys thought I'd never update huh? Sorry about the wait, and I hope the long chapter makes up for it a bit.

First off, lets explain the numbered terms. I've found a copy of Players Guide to the Sabbat (as well as the Camarilla version) and thought it'd be fun to toss in some Sect slang. And it was!

injun or Indian: a member of a nomadic pack.

Recruit:A vampire Embraced against her will, usually (but not exclusively) in the interests of providing cannon fodder for the sect's conquests.

Bitch: A newly inducted Sabbat or a Sabbat of low status.

Also, I want to thank irenadel. Her comments about Simons illness way way back in ch4 started my brain along on the path that lead to his revelation just now. So, kudos to you madam, and kudos again! (heh, newsradio)

Now for some bad news. I've been drafted. I enter the army for a period of 1 year beginning in may. I'll try and finish as much as I can beforehand, but afterwards updates'll be a bit rare. This story in particular should only run two or three more chapters, and Vote Brujah a bit more.


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